


The Domination of Taylor

by Axxor



Category: Worm (Web Serial Novel)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Gangbang, Other, Shower Sex, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Threesome - F/F/M, body control, simulated rape, simulated tentacle rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axxor/pseuds/Axxor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is an alternate future of Brockton Bay.  After a major conflict that laid the city waste, the Undersiders are in sole control of the city, and Taylor Hebert is running the Undersiders.  But she is under an immense strain, which will drive her insane, unless she can be forced to let go of her iron self-control every now and again.</p><p>In short, she needs to get laid, regularly and extremely thoroughly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor needs doggy-style sex in the worst possible way

Taylor was trapped in the locker, it was closing in, she could not escape.  There was smoke curling in through the vents.  There was fire.  Fire, and she would not be able to escape, she would burn to death, or suffocate.  She tried to scream, choked, banged on the locker door -  
  
\- and jerked awake in her chair, letting out a half-gasp, half-cry of fear and pain.  Her eyes darted around the room, while all of the bugs within her range searched for danger.  
  
Nothing.  
  
She relaxed into the chair, drawing long sobbing breaths into her lungs.  
  
It was getting worse.  
  
She was more or less running Brockton Bay now.  The other gangs had either submitted to the rule of the Undersiders, been defeated or killed, or simply left town.  The PRT and Protectorate still maintained a presence, but they rarely ventured out without notifying her first; a series of humiliating defeats had taught them a much-needed lesson, and they had chosen to go with a 'hands-off' policy.  
  
And it worked.  The city was rebuilding, and it was  _working_.  
  
But the strain on Taylor was immense.  She could not dare delegate any major part of the city's defense to anyone else.  No-one had the reach and range and scope that she did; no-one could detect and react to a new threat, thanks to the relay bugs she had spread in nests all over the city, faster than she could.  
  
Amy Dallon had done that for her.  Bedraggled, gaunt with hunger, she had given herself up to the Undersiders, and begged to be allowed to do something good, anything.  Taylor had decided to give her a chance, and now Amy was steadily producing bugs of all types to add to Taylor's menagerie, bugs of quite astounding versatility.  She was also pregnant, something that Taylor had decided not to ask her about.  
  
But with the extra power, her responsibility to the city had increased proportionately.  New villains were sneaking into Brockton Bay all the time, under the mistaken supposition that a city run by villains must be a criminal paradise.  She was having to teach them otherwise, and it was getting harder to hold herself back.    
  
The last two who had tried it on had been found, stung to within an inch of their lives by hornets and bullet ants.  Brian had asked her pointedly why she hadn't used the Newter hornets or the ketamine wasps, and she had shrugged and said something about how she didn't have any available.    
  
Which was not entirely true; there had been a hive-drone within thirty seconds' flight time, and it had been fully stocked with both types.  But she had coldly decided that attempting to rape a thirteen year old girl in an alley deserved more than a quiet snooze or a trip to fairyland.  
  
Still, she had gone a little too far, and she knew it.  She shivered.  She was getting so close to stepping over the line into murder, and not ever stepping back.  
  
She had to do something about it.  
  
She didn't want to.  
  
Relinquishing control was something she was loath to do under any circumstances.  
  
But she had to, if she was to stay sane.  Lisa had taught her that.  In their first sessions, she had been apprehensive going in, but the release had been enormous.  She had been able to get her head back in the game.  
  
It had been too long already.  The nightmares were beginning to crop up again, and this time with extra elements of horror.  She couldn't let it go on.  
  
She rose to her feet, put on her jacket.  A signal bug alerted her driver, and he was waiting out the front when she stepped out of the door.  As a matter of habit, she swept the surrounding area with her bugs.  No threats.  
  
Climbing into the car, she said, "The Dog Pound."  He nodded, and let in the clutch.  
  
She had considered Alec, but he was, at that very moment, engaging in wild and perverted sex with Imp.  Not that she had anything against wild and perverted sex, but right now it wasn't what she wanted.  Brian was a possibility, but ... no.  Lisa ...  
  
She thought about that for a bit.  Maybe not Bitch.  Maybe Lisa.  But no, Lisa tended toward the mind games, the making her humiliate herself.  It was always such a sweet torture, always such a release, such a relief, at the end, but that wasn't what she needed right now.  
  
What she needed was Bitch.  
  
What she needed was someone to make her submit voluntarily to control, to use her.  
  
***  
  
The car pulled up outside the gates to the Dog Pound.  Barking could be heard from within.  She nodded to the driver.  "I'll call for you."  He saluted in reply.  
  
She didn't watch him drive off.  She walked to the smaller door set in the larger gate, used her key.  
  
Upon entering, a dozen dogs of different breeds rushed at her, snapping and growling.  She snapped a single command, the one Bitch had taught her.  They jerked to a halt, approached her cautiously, sniffing.  Then they recognised her, started licking her, wagging their tails.  
  
Bitch came out, wiping her hands on a piece of rag.  "Taylor," she said.  No inflection, no elaboration.    
  
"Bitch," said Taylor.  She walked up to Bitch, dropped to one knee.  Lowered her head.  
  
Bitch watched this.  She saw Taylor Hebert, the alpha dog of her alpha pack, lower herself to become submissive to her.  Reaching down, she scratched Taylor behind the ear, a familiar gesture, one of simultaneous affection and ownership.  Taylor shivered, and remained still.  She felt the first curlings of arousal in her stomach.  
  
Lisa had told her that she needed to get laid, desperately, if she was to stay sane.  But Taylor was unable to relax long enough to do so.  Even when Lisa had talked Brian into having sex with Taylor, it had not gone well; Taylor was too tense, unable to get into it.  They had stopped after several frustrating attempts at getting her aroused.  
  
So Lisa had taken her into her own room, into her own bed, and had quite literally talked her into letting her defenses down.  Taylor had discovered that she could not be persuaded into letting this happen; she had to be forced, in one way or another.  That first night, Lisa had used psychological techniques to coerce Taylor into one humiliating position after another, at the end of which Lisa had rewarded her with a mind-shattering orgasm.  
  
She had been on a high for days afterward, able to run the city with a light hand, and actually enjoy life at the same time.  But it had returned, and this time, she had gone to Lisa for help.   Lisa had done much the same thing again, and Taylor had been grateful to her.  But it seemed to her that the release was less, the relief was shorter lived.  Lisa had suggested letting the other Undersiders also take their turns on her.  
  
She had been dubious at first, but once she took the step of allowing Alec to take control of her body, she found she perversely relished the feeling of having him do whatever he wanted to, to her body.  Often with Imp's enthusiastic, and quite perverted assistance.  And the aftermath of the release ... was amazing.  
  
Brian, she found, had quite a taste for forcible sex.  Once she and Lisa explained matters to him, he was able to convincingly carry out a mock rape, tearing her clothes off and holding her down while he forced himself inside her.  Once she felt herself helpless in his grasp, she became quite aroused, and could not resist his touch.  Usually, by the time he finished with her, she was quite unable to walk.  
  
She still went back to Lisa from time to time, putting on the trappings of bondage and submission, and allowing Lisa to humiliate her in quite degrading ways.  It was always rewarding, always worth it.  And it kept the nightmares at bay.  
  
But Bitch ... she was the one Taylor needed right now.  
  
***  
  
"Up," Bitch snapped.  
  
Taylor stood, head down, submissively.  
  
"Heel."  She followed Bitch into the building.  Bitch paused at the door, snapped her fingers, whistled.  A dozen dogs broke from the pack, followed.  Taylor felt the arousal in her guts intensify.  Her nipples hardened.  She didn't want this, but oh god she desperately needed it.  
  
Bitch led Taylor to a large room, with a padded floor.  She had been here before.  She was so aroused now that she could hardly stand.  
  
"Strip," snapped Bitch.  Obediently, Taylor began to remove her clothing.  Jacket, t-shirt, bra, shoes, pants, panties.  They formed a small pile on the floor.  Her glasses went on top.  She stood there naked, not covering herself, submissive.  Waiting for orders.  
  
Bitch walked around her, inspecting her.  She pinched Taylor's firm, spare buttock.  Taylor didn't move.  She gestured; Taylor spread her legs slightly.  Reaching under, Bitch felt her sex.  She was dripping.  
  
"Slut," Bitch said.  "Ready for breeding."  
  
The words almost made Taylor come, right then.  But she wasn't allowed to.  
  
Bitch quickly and efficiently removed her own pants and underwear.  She lay down on the ground and spread her muscular thighs.  "Lick," she ordered.  
  
Taylor got down on all fours, put her head between Bitch's legs, and started eating her.  Bitch's musky effusions were not the best taste in the world, but she lapped at them as if they were the very waters of life.  Bitch grunted at her enthusiasm, but barely showed any other signs of arousal.  
  
Raising her hand, Bitch whistled and snapped her fingers again.  One dog came forward, sniffed at Taylor's out-thrust buttocks.  Involuntarily, Taylor opened her thighs a little.  The dog sniffed between her legs, licked her.  She moaned into Bitch's wet pussy, but could not come.  The dog licked her again, deeper, its long tongue sliding over her clitoris, deep between her labia.  She shivered again, wanted so desperately to come.  The pleasure was incredible.  She kept licking.  Bitch didn't like it if she stopped licking.  
  
"Hup," commanded Bitch.  The dog's nose left her streaming sex.  And then it was on top of her, paws scrabbling at her shoulders.  She felt its cock probing at her labia, trying to gain entry.  She reached back, guided it into her.  
  
Once it had purchase, the dog thrust hard, shoving its rigidly erect cock hard into Taylor's vaginal canal.  She gasped and arched her back, but kept licking.  Under her, Bitch was quivering and shaking from the slowly building pleasure.  
  
The dog thrust into her, deeper and deeper, harder and harder.  She was being mounted, forced, fucked, raped, screwed, taken.  It was humiliating.  It was degrading.  It was pleasure beyond anything she knew.  
  
She continued to lick at Bitch, who suddenly grabbed her head, forced her face down between her labia, and climaxed.  She made not a sound.  Taylor fought for breath, kept licking, her head swimming with the sensations smashing through her body.  
  
She felt the dog's penis swell and knot, and then it started cumming inside her.  And  _then_  she was allowed her own climax.  
  
She cried out as she spasmed in her own orgasm, over and over again.  Bitch's hand, knotted in her hair, brought her back to business.  She had to keep licking.  
  
The first dog got off; another one climbed aboard.  It fucked her wet and willing pussy.  She let it.  her entire job, her entire responsibility, was to be there, lick Bitch's pussy, and be fucked by her dogs.  
  
One after another, the dogs took her.  They were not gentle, they were not loving.  It was not their way.  They simply put it in, fucked her as hard as they could, came in her, and got off.  
  
It was exactly what she needed.  She came and came and came again.  
  
Eventually, the last dog finished and got off her.  The dogs were all sitting around, licking their long red penises.  Bitch pulled Taylor's face off her pussy.  Taylor thought dully that this was good; her lips and tongue were starting to get tired.  
  
She began to get up; Bitch said sharply, "Stay!"  She stayed.  
  
Bitch appeared in front of her with a strap-on dildo protruding from her hips.  "Suck," she ordered.  Obediently, Taylor sucked on it.  She let Bitch slid the entire length down her throat; Brian's forcible fucking sessions had taught her how to suck cock quite well.  
  
Pulling from her mouth, Bitch went around behind her.  In the next moment, Taylor felt her ass cheeks being pried apart.  "No -" she began, the first word she had spoken since she had fallen to her knees before Bitch.  
  
"Shut!" snapped Bitch, and slapped her ass.  Taylor shut up.  Speaking had been a mistake.  Bitch was the master here.  
  
She felt the thick head of the dildo pressing against her tight little pucker.  Arousal blossomed within her once more.  This was more degrading, more humiliating than before.  Oh yes, she needed this.  
  
Her asshole relaxed of its own accord.  Bitch forced the thick cock inside her, sliding deep between her taut buttocks.  There was a little pain, but she could live with that.  The feeling of pleasure from being forced, being made to accept another degrading act, overcame it and made her pussy sing.  
  
Bitch gripped her narrow hips, pumped into her, harder and harder, deeper and deeper.  Taylor arched her back, groaned with the power of Bitch's thrusts, pushed back at her.  When she finally came, it nearly took the top of her head off.  She collapsed, body twitching with the intensity of her pleasure, as Bitch thrust into her ass a few more times before removing the dildo.  
  
Her asshole felt like it had been wrecked.  She wondered if she was going to be able to walk straight after this.  
  
Slowly, she came back to herself.  Dragging herself to her clothes, she wiped the inside of her thighs with a cloth that Bitch had handed her, then carefully got dressed.  
  
Bitch had to help her up.  
  
They walked from the room, Taylor leaning heavily on Bitch, as her legs didn't want to work properly.  By the time they made it to the yard outside, she was able to stand on her own.  
  
She stood and looked at Bitch.  Bitch stared her in the eyes, dominant, challenging.  She reached out, scratched Bitch behind the ear; affectionate, possessive.  Bitch lowered her eyes.  Taylor was once more the alpha bitch of the alpha pack.  
  
She wanted to kiss Bitch, tell her how much she had needed that.  But Bitch would not understand the gesture or the words.  She knew, anyway.  Bitch knew more than people understood.  
  
Turning, she hobbled from the yard.  Her driver was just pulling up.  She got into the car.  
  
"Back to base," she ordered.  Leaning back in the seat, she found herself able once more to relax, to think, to concentrate.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," said the driver, and let the clutch in.  
  
The car moved off.  Taylor didn't look back.    
  
She would not return.  Until she needed it again.


	2. Panacea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor becomes Lieutenant Sapphos Lysistratia, and loses her virginity to a tentacle beast

Taylor paused at the top of the stairs. "See that I am not disturbed for at least an hour," she ordered.  
   
The guard came to rigid attention and saluted. "Yes, ma'am!" he responded firmly.  
   
She smiled slightly and went on.  Loyalty,  _true_  loyalty, was a quality craved by every commander of men, ever.  She had earned hers, the hard way.  She had stood at the forefront of the battles, helped conceive the strategies which had eventually won through.  She had  _earned_  the loyalty of her men.  
   
 Entering the underground laboratory, she was struck, as always, by the fact that it did not look like any sort of laboratory.  Rather, like a garden, or a conservatory, filled with insects and plants related to nothing outside of those walls.  
   
Panacea sat in the middle of it all, on a chair which resembled mostly a shaped mushroom.  Which it probably was, Taylor mused.  A white lab coat was buttoned loosely around her burgeoning belly; Taylor felt a twinge of envy at the sight of her deep cleavage, accentuated by her pregnancy-swollen breasts.  
   
Amy held her hand palm up; on it, a colourful insect changed and grew.  
   
"Nice," said Taylor.  "What  _is_  it?"  
   
"There's a strain of HIV that keeps breaking out, even after my AIDS bugs have been through the area," said Amy Dallon absently. "This one's going to find out what the deal is, and bring me back samples."  
   
The bug froze, and she looked up at Taylor. "Here again, huh?"  
   
Taylor nodded.  "I  _need_  it," she admitted in a small voice.  She was beginning to shake, holding her arms around herself.  "Please ... make it  _do_ it to me."  
   
Panacea smiled gently.  "Who do you want to be, this time?" she asked.  
   
Taylor smiled.  "Lieutenant Lysistratia," she said.  "I  _like_  being her."  
   
Amy's smile widened.  Sapphos Lysistratia was the most ... virginal of the personae that she and Taylor had created for this fantasy.  She always reacted with the most outrage ... and the most arousal.   _Taylor must really need this, today._  
   
She gestured at a row of lockers.  "It's in the usual place," she said.  
   
Hands trembling, Taylor stripped off, removing even her underwear, until she stood naked before Panacea.  On her belly, Any saw the row of tally-scars that marked the fallen, those that Taylor had cared about.  There were far too many marks.  Taylor had done the scars herself with a lighter-heated knife; this had been the week before Lisa had taken her to bed for the first time.  
   
Amy - and the Undersiders - believed that Lisa had saved Taylor's life by doing so.  
   
In the locker was a flimsy costume; a silvery tunic that left her breasts almost bare and only just covered the groin, along with thigh-high silver boots and transparent silvery panties.  The last thing that she picked up was the silver-painted plastic toy raygun.  
   
She strutted over to Amy, flaunting her breasts and buttocks, already beginning to get into the role.  Leaning down to the biokinetic, she slid her tongue into Amy’s ear before kissing her full on the lips.  Their mouths opened, their tongues meshed erotically, and a wash of tailored hallucinogens hit the soft tissues of Taylor's mouth, to be instantly absorbed.  
   
Amy kissed her a little longer, slipping her hand within the tunic to fondle her breast.  Taylor moaned and responded, pulling the lab coat open and cupping one full breast in her hand, squeezing and pinching the turgid nipple.  A little milk leaked out.  
   
Reluctantly, Amy broke the kiss.  "You have your orders, Lieutenant," she said, her voice husky with arousal.  "Carry them out."  
   
Taylor saluted.  In her mind ...  
   
 _Lieutenant Sapphos “Skitter” Lysistratia of the elite Space Sirens Corps moved down the corridor with purpose.  She paused in front of a reflective panel to adjust her tunic, to make sure that her full breasts showed ample cleavage, that her ass showed to its maximum effect under the skirt of the tunic.  Not for any_ men _, of course.  The Space Sirens swore a blood oath that only female lips would touch theirs, and that no male organ would part their labia, that no male seed would infest their wombs._  
  
 _She sighed to remember the parting they had given her; Tattletale Wilbourn, with her ready wit and quick tongue, in every sense of the word.  Imp Laborn, the squadron’s stealth specialist, who could be in your bed and between your thighs before you knew it.  Bitch Lindt, who owned an illicit dildo, and could doggy-style you right off the bed with it.  And of course, Lieutenant-Commander Panacea Dallon, who could make any of the girls in the squadron reach orgasm with a quiet word in the ear and a caress on the butt._  
  
 _But she couldn’t get distracted, she thought regretfully, pulling her hand from her already-wet panties.  She had a mission.  The disgusting and repulsive God-Emperor of the Tentaculars was in the chamber just ahead.   If she could assassinate him, then the galaxy would be safe from –_  
  
Panacea watched on the screen as Taylor sidled down the bare corridor.  In her mind, of course, Taylor would be furnishing it with alien tech and strange sigils.  She stroked a length of vine that rose beside the mushroom chair.  Another section of vine, on the screen, lashed down and latched on the the tunic, almost pulling Taylor off her feet.  She giggled and spoke into a microphone, her other hand slowly rubbing between her legs.  
   
 _“Hah!  Gotcha, disgusting Earth female!”_  
  
 _Sapphos barely dodged the reaching tentacle, but it snagged her tunic. She was almost pulled from her feet, but she quick-wittedly raised her arms, allowing the clothing to be pulled from her.  Turning, she aimed a quick blaster bolt at the creature that had almost snagged her.  The bolt hit dead centre, but the nasty thing spewed black blood all over her tunic before expiring.  She looked at it with disgust._  
  
 _“Ew, I’m not putting_ that _back on.”_  
  
 _Wearing just skimpy, transparent panties and thigh-high silver boots, full breasts bouncing slowly and enticingly in the one-quarter gravity, Sapphos ran on._  
  
As Taylor stepped into the room, the tentacle creature that Panacea had crafted awoke. It sampled the DNA in the skin samples drifting to her, and recognised Taylor.  A complex series of commands surged into its simple brain.  These boiled down to  _Target.  Fuck senseless, then let go._  
   
 _Sapphos stepped into the large, ornate chamber housing the God-Emperor of the Tentaculars.  She carefully raised her blaster pistol ..._  
  
 _“Fool!” roared the Tentacular in its vile tongue, which she had painstakingly learned. A tentacle lashed out, and her blaster pistol spun into the distance._  
  
A tentacle tapped Taylor on the wrist, and she obediently dropped the plastic pistol.  Then she crawled on to the tentacle creature, which was about the size of a double bed.  It had tentacles of many shapes and sizes, as well as a few interesting orifices. Tentacles wrapped around her; two removed her panties for her.  
   
 _Sapphos felt tentacles lash out from the house-sized monstrosity and lift her bodily into the air.  Her panties – the last bastion of her purity and virginity – were torn from her, disappearing from her ken.  She felt her legs spread wide, her arms held apart.  She struggled wildly, screaming in panic.  
_  
Taylor wriggled slightly as the tentacles caressed her, moaning softly.  Amy readied the microphone again.  She so did enjoy playing the speaking part of the tentacle creature.  
   
 _“You come to me, and you expect to remain a Space Siren?” roared the disgusting voice.  “I will have you as my own!  You will submit willingly to my desires, and you will be the mother of my thousand young!”_  
  
 _“Never!” she spat.  “A Space Siren never gives up her virtue!  I will go to my grave a virgin!”  In the_ technical _sense, she amended silently.  Bitch Lindt really was an artist with her dildo._  
  
 _“Oh, really,” roared the monster, cackling with obscene laughter.  A tentacle, tipped with what looked horribly like a human tongue, slathered up between her spread thighs; the tip slipped a little way into the tight opening between her taut buttocks.  She shrieked in surprise.  And then it_ licked  _her.  All the way from her anus to her clitoris.  The ‘tongue’ parted her labia, and slurped at the pure secretions she had already exuded, thinking about the farewell party she had had._  
  
 _The unexpected pleasure hit her like a meteor strike, sending her into a paroxym of forbidden pleasure._  
  
Taylor spread her thighs for the tongue-like tentacle, and it slithered up between her labia, dipping into her ass on the way, and rubbing over her clitoris.  So aroused was she that she came on the spot, moaning and pulling at the tentacles that held her arms and legs.  Other tentacles caressed her breasts and back and legs.  
   
 _“No!” she screamed.  “No!  Do not defile me with your unclean pleasures!  I refuse to submit!”_  
  
 _The monster did it again.  This time, she managed to hold back the reaction to the long, luxuriant slurp across her tight little pucker, all the way to her rigidly erect clitoris._  
  
 _“No ... no ... no ... don’t ... stop ....” she moaned._  
  
 _It defiled her again, and the third time broke her will, broke the famed will of the Space Sirens._  
  
 _“Do you want me to do this to you?” it roared._  
  
 _“Oh ... yes,” she moaned.  “Yes. Do it.  Defile my virginity.  I submit! I submit!  Just give me the pleasure!”_  
  
 _And then she saw the tentacle approaching.  Other tentacles were squeezing and rubbing her full breasts, and caressing her buttocks, but this one looked like a male penis ... only much, much larger._  
  
 _She screamed as it parted her labia, pressing into her.  She watched unbelievingly as her vagina spread, wider and wider, to accommodate it.  And all she felt was the veriest of pleasure._  
  
A tentacle shaped much like a medium-sized male penis slid slowly into Taylor’s wet and willing vagina; she moaned and clenched her muscles around it.  It pushed harder, affording her more and more pleasure.  
   
Panacea watched, knowing that Taylor’s altered perceptions would make it seem that she was being penetrated by something the size of a muscular man’s arm, and that she was enjoying it.  
   
 _Sapphos Lysistratia felt her thighs being spread as wide as they would go, as the massive tentacle-cock spread her labia wide and penetrated deep within her.  She could feel it pressing against her womb, see the bulge in her stomach as more and more tentacle slid into her._  
  
 _And then it was sliding in and out of her, more than a yard of tentacle, fucking her slowly and steadily.  The pleasure was beyond imagining.  She came again and again, knowing that she should not, must not, surrender to this foul being, and not caring._  
  
Amy smiled, rubbing herself, as Taylor began to cum again and again.  Taylor’s body twitched with the abandon of release, of relief from intolerable pleasure.  Right at this moment, she was not Taylor Hebert, de facto ruler of Brockton Bay. She was Sapphos “Skitter” Lysistratia, Space Siren, and she was being fucked silly by a tentacle monster.  
   
 _And then, just as Sapphos thought she had attained the ultimate of pleasure, there came another intrusion.  Between her twitching buttocks, another tentacle was pressing. “No,” she whispered.  “Not there.  Not my most secret place.”_  
  
 _Not where not even Bitch Lindt had gone with her dildo, nor Tattletale Wilborn with her talented tongue.  She could not be sure if Imp Laborn had not been there – Imp was sneaky, like that – and of course the Lieutenant Commander had had her in every way one woman could have another woman.  But the Lieutenant Commander was special like that._  
  
 _But the tentacle pressed into her, and she felt it penetrate, and then steadily thickening, slide between her buttocks, deeper and deeper into her bowels.  She tried to clench her ass, push it from her; she only succeeded in increasing the pleasure tenfold._  
  
Taylor moaned as another tentacle slid between her buttocks and slowly insinuated itself into her ass.  Slowly, gently, it began to fuck her, even as its mate slid in and out of her tight wet pussy.  
   
 _“Do you like being fucked in the ass, Space Siren?” roared the creature.  “Does the pleasure feel good to you?”_  
  
 _Sapphos moaned and twitched in its grip as it drove more and more, ever thickening, tentacle deep into her tender bottom.  She felt herself stretch, and stretch, and stretch again, until her asshole must be stretched wide enough to take her own leg.  And then, like the tentacle in front, it began to fuck her. And the pleasure drove her into another series of sinful, forbidden, illicit orgasms._  
  
 _“Oh ... Lady of our Labia, yes!” she gasped.  “Do it to me .. I submit to your will ... fuck me any way you want me ... I am yours!”_  
  
 _The monster laughed loud and long.  “Then open your mouth and drink of my seed!”_  
  
 _She saw the third tentacle approaching her face.  It, too, was shaped like a penis.  As the other two tentacles drove into her body, filling her like no other, like not even Bitch Lindt’s dildo had managed to do to her, she obediently opened her mouth._  
  
Taylor convulsed in more orgasms, then opened her mouth to suck on a third tentacle.  The other two were deeply embedded in her; not so far as her hallucinogen-enhanced imagination thought, but far enough.  She moaned around the mouthful of warm flesh as more tentacles slithered over her body, caressing her everywhere she could be caressed..  
   
 _The massive tentacle-cock slid into her mouth and down her throat.  Somehow she avoided gagging, somehow she did not suffocate.  It was her Sirens training, she thought proudly.  Once, she had managed to go down on the Lieutenant-Commander for three and a half minutes without breathing once.  She had even managed to bring her to orgasm three times._  
  
 _Of course, then the redoubtable Panacea Dallon had sucked lightly upon her nipple, slid a finger into her ass, and given her a series of orgasms that left her stunned and bewildered on the bed._  
  
 _The thick meaty tentacle slid down her throat, more and more of it, until she suspected that it was seeking to meet with the one intruding into her very intestines. And then, it too began to fuck her, sliding in and out of her throat._  
  
 _“Do you want my seed?” the monster roared.  “Do you want your belly filled with my progeny, that you may mother my young and feed them on your life-giving juices, forever after?”_  
  
 _Unable to speak,  she nodded._ Yes.  Do it to me.  
  
 _And then the tentacles all surged into her, driving in and out of her orifices with a speed and power that blasted her into another series of orgasms.  And at the peak of them ..._  
  
 _... the monster released its seed._  
  
 _Hot white jets of cum blasted deep inside her womb, inside her ass, down her throat into her stomach.  She was filled up with it, overflowing, and more and more of it came.  Her belly bulged with all the seed it spurted within her._  
  
Yes,  _she thought._  Give it all to me.  
   
 _The very last spurt triggered another orgasm, the most powerful one yet.  Sapphos Lysistratia, once Lieutenant of the Space Sirens, now consort and child-bearer to the God-Emperor of the Tentaculars, passed out from sheer pleasure._  
  
The last of the post-hypnotic commands kicked in with Taylor’s last orgasm, and she quietly went to sleep.  
   
***  
   
Taylor woke up, feeling incredibly relaxed and blissful, reclining naked in a mushroom chair strikingly similar to the one Panacea was still sitting in.    
   
“Wow,” she said.  “That was ...  _awesome.”_  
   
Amy smiled.  “You certainly needed  the release,” she agreed.  “Come by any time.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “If there’s anything you need ...”  
   
Amy nodded.  “I’ll put in a request.”  She rose and helped Taylor dress.  Then she kissed her once, tenderly, minus any hallucinogens. “Thank you for letting me be here,” she whispered, holding her employer, her refuge, the saver of her life and her unborn baby’s life, in her arms.  
   
Taylor smiled and kissed her back. “You have earned your place here, many times over,” she said.  “Thank you for being here.”  After holding Amy for several minutes, she disengaged and headed for the door.  “Take care now.”  
   
Climbing the steps, she nodded to the guard and went to the waiting car.   
   
 _Now,_  she thought.   _Back to business._  
   
***  
   
Amy smiled and waved.  When the door closed, she breathed deeply and stretched carefully.  Then she shed her robe.  
   
Naked, she walked down the short corridor to the room where the tentacle creature resided.  This was, indeed, her bedroom, and the tentacle creature was her bed.  She maintained it, she fed it, and she slept upon it.  
   
Upon tasting her DNA on the air, the tentacle creature recognised her.  
   
 _Mother.  Care/love/hold/caress._  
   
She climbed upon its bulk; it moved tentacles to assist her.  Settling into their caress, she felt them supporting her belly, while others with specialised orifices latched lightly onto her distended breasts and gently suckled upon her, relieving her of excess pressure.  
   
Others caressed her, tenderly rather than erotically.  Lulled in the arms of her creation, she drifted off to sleep.  And the tentacle creature sang a lullaby to her in her sister’s voice.  
   
Dreaming, she lay in the arms of her sister, and gazed upon her face.  And in her dream, Victoria Dallon smiled at her, and kissed her, and made sweet gentle love to her.  
   
And in her sleep ... Panacea smiled.


	3. Tattletale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to the first time Lisa takes Taylor to bed

“Taylor?”  
   
Taylor did not respond.  She was currently dealing with fourteen swarms in and around the greater Brockton Bay area, keeping a vigilant eye out for trouble.  
   
There was none; this did not mean that she could stop looking.  
   
She rubbed her stomach; flat, muscular, trimmed down to bare essentials by the exigencies of the war.  Rows of raised scars ran across it under her shirt; they had only stopped hurting in the last few days.  They were the tally marks for each and every one of her friends, her loved ones, that had died, that she may have possibly saved, had she done something different.  
   
She had sat up late on that night, brooding. Turning over the knife in her hands. Running the stone over the blade occasionally.  More than once, she had considered using it for her own personal final solution.  Something that would let her rest, let her end the torment that filled her mind.  
   
In the end, she had taken a cigarette lighter from one of the guards and retreated back into her sanctum.  
   
Holding the knife blade in the cleansing flame, she had said the name silently to herself.  
   
 _Daniel Hebert.  Loving father.  Forever missed._  
  
The score mark on her smooth skin had caused a hiss of agony between clenched teeth, but she had made it straight as a die.  
   
She reheated the blade for the next mark.  
   
 _Missy Biron.  Valiant hero.  You went above and beyond._  
  
And the next mark.  And the next.  And the next.  
   
By the time she had finished the two rows of tally-marks, her belly was on fire with agony. But she made the last mark with just as much precision as the first.  
   
 _Emily Piggot.  Warrior in arms.  A gallant sacrifice._  
  
She had carefully treated the burns with antiseptic – she wasn’t  _stupid_ , after all – and put a bandage over it.    
   
But Lisa had spotted it anyway.  Had spoken to her in some detail and range over her utter lack of common sense.  And then she’d realised halfway through the diatribe that Taylor had zoned out, was monitoring a swarm somewhere.  Taylor hadn’t even noticed when she walked out of the room.  
   
And now, it was a week after she’d done it, and Lisa had come to a decision.  Taylor was spending less and less time in the now, and more and more time following one swarm or another around the city.  She was becoming colder, less human, by the day.  And there were the nightmares, too.  Taylor denied she had them, but that was just a formality.  They both knew that Lisa knew.  
   
She walked up to the large chair in which Taylor spent most of her waking hours.  
   
“Taylor!’ she shouted.  
   
Taylor jolted, came out of her reverie.  
   
“Lisa,” she said.  “When did you get in?”  
   
“I’ve been standing here for five minutes, saying your name,” said Lisa tartly.  “Now get up.  There’s something we have to do.”  
   
“There is?” asked Taylor.  She paused.  “What day is it?”  
   
Lisa sighed.  “Thursday.”  
   
Taylor paused.  “Right, right.  So, what was this thing we had to do?”  Her eyes began to lose focus again.  
   
Lisa sighed, and grabbed Taylor by the ear, lifting her out of the chair.  
   
“Ow!” shouted Taylor.  “Lisa!  What the fuck?”  
   
“You brought this on yourself,” snapped Lisa. “Seriously.”  She walked along, fingers firmly clamped on Taylor’s ear. Taylor followed, trying not to whimper at the pain.  
   
Lisa more or less dragged her to her own room, a soundproofed affair in the basement.  She needed the soundproofing, otherwise every tiny noise in the night provided its own explanation, and she never got any sleep.  
   
Today, the soundproofing would provide another use.  
   
***  
   
Once Lisa let her go to lock the door, Taylor looked around.  “Okay, now what the fuck –“  
   
Lisa turned around and slapped her.  Taylor stared at her, wordlessly.  
   
“Strip,” ordered Lisa.  
   
“Wha –“   _Slap._  
  
“Strip!” snapped Lisa.  “Now!”  
   
Taylor stripped, hurriedly, down to her underwear. A bra she hadn’t changed in a week, panties she hadn’t changed in three days.  Lisa picked up a riding crop and slapped Taylor’s left breast with it. “What the fuck does ‘Strip’ mean to you?  Fucking ‘leave some clothes on?’ Do what you’re  _fucking told!”_  
  
Wincing at the stinging nipple – for Lisa’s aim had been deadly accurate – Taylor stripped altogether.  She stood there as Lisa removed her own top and pants to reveal tight leather bondage gear; straps accentuating and lifting her breasts, leaving the nipples free for use.  Likewise, straps tightened the buttocks, and revealed the vagina – shaven for the occasion, apparently – and the ass, also for whatever use they might be put to.  
   
Lisa stepped in close and sniffed.  “What the fuck is that?  You fucking stink!”  She slapped Taylor’s ass with the crop; Taylor jumped and yelped.  Lisa pointed.  “Shower!  Now! Hurry hurry hurry hurry!”  
   
Taylor obviously wasn’t fast enough; she had several more red patches on her ass by the time she reached the shower cubicle.  
   
“Leave the fucking door open,” ordered Lisa. “I’m gonna  _watch_  you and make sure you do it right.”  
   
Taylor nodded, and turned on the taps.  A  _thwack_  slashed across her ass.  
   
“Ow!” she yelped.  “What was that for?”  
   
“Did I  _say_  you could use hot water?” snapped Lisa.  
   
“But the cold water’s really cold!” protested Taylor.  
   
“Right!  Out of the shower!” ordered Lisa.  Taylor stepped out.  
   
“Up against the wall!  Feet out from the wall!  Lean in!”  
   
Taylor obediently took up the position.  
   
“You will repeat after me, and then you will thank me for the lesson!” snapped Lisa.  
   
 _Thwack._ “I –“  
   
Taylor faltered.  “Uh –“  
   
 ** _Thwack._** “I –“  
   
“I –“ repeated Taylor hastily; that last one had really stung.  
   
 _Thwack._ “will –“  
   
“will –“  
   
 _Thwack._ “not –“  
   
“not –“  
   
 _Thwack._ “talk –“  
   
“talk –“  
   
 _Thwack._ “out –“  
   
“out –“  
   
 _Thwack._ “of –“  
   
“of –“  
   
 ** _Thwack_** _._ “turn!“  
   
Taylor arched her back as the last stroke hit her stinging buttocks, but gasped out the word “turn!”  
   
There was a moment’s silence, and then Lisa tapped the crop threateningly on her palm.  
   
“Ah – thank you for the lesson,” blurted Taylor.  
   
Lisa smiled.  “Good.  Into the shower.  Cold water only.  And be sure to scrub well.”  She held a harsh brush, good for scrubbing floors.  “Use this.”  
   
She held up the crop.  “And if you don’t scrub hard enough ... the  _next_  strokes will be on your nipples.  And I will not go as easily as I have on your buttocks.”  
   
***  
   
The cold water was truly Arctic in temperature. Taylor gasped and spluttered as she soaped and then scrubbed herself under the stinging spray,  Under Lisa's eagle eye, she applied the brush unsparingly, until all of her skin was tingling and smarting.  Her hair needed washing too, so she attended to that, with the occasional  _thwack_  of the riding crop on her bare buttock or breast if Lisa thought her attention was wandering.   
   
By the time she got out, both buttocks and both breasts were smarting from Lisa's attentions; she had also started flicking Taylor on the labia when she got the chance.  
   
Once she had dried herself - with the usual penalties for not paying attention, or for missing a spot - Lisa had thrown a concoction of leather straps at her and ordered her to put it on.  It proved to be even more skimpy than Lisa's, but the straps were arranged to squeeze her breasts outwards, enclosing them almost painfully, and making the nipples far more sensitive to the riding crop.  It also featured a ring for a leash to be attached.  Lisa attached such a leash, and led Taylor like a dog to the bed.  She then clipped the leash to the head of the bed.  
   
"Kneel," she ordered.  
   
Taylor obediently knelt.  Following orders, doing what she was told, was much easier than ...   
   
 _Thwack_.  She stifled a yelp as the crop slapped her engorged nipple.   
   
"Pay attention," ordered Lisa.  "Do you know why you are here?"  
   
“No,” whispered Taylor.  She kept her eyes downcast.  It was easier.  
   
 _Thwack._ “You are here to do  _exactly_  what I tell you, no more and no less!”   _Thwack._   “You do not talk out of turn!  You do not  _think_  out of turn!  You obey orders!”   _Thwack._   “Do you understand me!”  
   
Taylor’s butt was stinging from the renewed assault, but she nodded swiftly.  “I understand,” she whispered.  
   
 ** _Thwack._**   That one  _stung._   “Look at me when you are talking to me!  I want to hear your voice!  Now – do!”   _Thwack_  on the butt.  “You!”   _Thwack_  across her left nipple, causing her to cry out.  “Understand!”   _Thwack_  across her right nipple, bringing tears to her eyes.  
   
She raised her face, trying not to cry from the pain, and gasped out, “I understand!  Please, I understand!”  
   
“Good,” purred Lisa.  She patted the bed.  “Up.  Lie on your back.”  
   
Obediently, Taylor climbed on to the bed.  She lay down on her back.  
   
Lisa leaned down over her, her breasts dangling, swaying gently.  “You will kiss me,” she said softly.  “You will kiss me like a lover who has been separated for a thousand years.  And then you will suckle on my breasts, make my nipples sing.”  She smiled. “And then ... and then you will pleasure me.  I would have an orgasm.”  
   
She lowered her lips to Taylor’s. Taylor wrapped her arms around Lisa’s neck, and kissed her.  Kissed her fervently, their tongues tangling.  She lost herself to the kiss, to the pleasure, to the love, to the arousal that it engendered.  
   
She was brought out of it by a sharp tweak to the nipple.  Lisa lifted her lips away from Taylor’s, a slightly glazing to the eyes the only indication of how it had affected her.  
   
“Passable,” she allowed.  “But it can stand for some improvement.  We will work on that.  Now ... my nipples.”  
   
She held herself above Taylor, her breasts dangling tantalisingly.  Taylor found that she had to hold herself uncomfortably in order to get her mouth properly on to the nipple.  She suckled hard, nibbling on the nipple, working her lips and tongue and teeth to make Lisa gasp with pleasure.  She went to use her hands too, but Lisa pinched her nipple sharply, making her gasp with pain.  “No hands! Mouth only!   _Naughty_  Taylor!”  And Taylor felt abashed and ashamed, and vowed to do better with the other breast.  
   
Eventually, Lisa allowed her to access her other breast, and she went to work with a will.  She must have succeeded, for Lisa was breathing hard by the time she lifted her breast away from Taylor’s willing mouth.  
   
“And now,” said Lisa, “pleasure me, and pleasure me well.  And open your thighs.  God knows you’re ugly enough, but you can’t hide  _that_  from me.”  
   
She straddled Taylor’s face on her knees, and lowered her dripping sex toward Taylor’s mouth, mounting her, covering her.  
   
Taylor obediently opened her thighs at the same time as her tongue encountered Lisa’s soft, arousal-slick labia.  
   
She had only done this once before, a furtive, frantic scrambling in the dark with Missy, at the other’s tearful request, on the night before ...  
   
 _Thwack_  across her spread labia.  She jolted her body, moaned in pain.  “Concentrate!” snapped Lisa.  “I require pleasure!”  
   
Taylor applied herself to Lisa’s musky sex.  Her tongue spread the labia, and within was that which she was there to pleasure.  She flicked at Lisa’s clitoris, then dragged her tongue up between her labia, tasting and drinking of her secretions.  Above her, Lisa shuddered, squeezing her own breasts.  
   
She licked and lapped and nibbled, drove her tongue as deep as she could into Lisa’s vagina, even as the blonde girl ground her pussy down on Taylor’s face.  Her tongue and jaw grew tired, but she kept at it, and finally Lisa arched her back and let out a long, low moan, even as her pussy clenched, and Taylor’s face was bathed in her effusions.  
   
She paused in her efforts then, only to feel another stinging  _Thwack_  directly on her clitoris.  “Did I  _say_  you could stop?”  
   
Grimly, Taylor began again, and within short order, she had elicited a second and then a third climax from the girl above her, the girl so completely mastering her.  
   
Finally, Lisa climbed off of her.  
   
“That was ... passable,” she said grudgingly.  “You eat pussy well.  I will have to train you some more ... but that will do for now.”  
   
She smiled and leaned down to kiss Taylor, the taste of her juices still strong on her lips.  “And now, you will remain perfectly still.  Move, and I stop.”  
   
Taylor froze.  Lisa’s lips on her were warm, demanding, sensual.  She was aroused in ways she had not even thought possible.  
   
Lisa’s mouth moved down to Taylor’s engorged, stinging nipples.  Enclosed them.  Engulfed them.  Sucked hard on them.  Taylor nearly arched her back as Lisa’s teeth closed on them, nipped, nibbled, nearly sent her out of her mind with pleasure.  But Lisa had said not to move.  
   
Her mind was awash with pleasure by the time that Lisa moved down to her sex, open, exposed, smarting from the punishment.  
   
Lisa’s mouth was rough, demanding, forceful.  Taylor felt herself responding, moaning softly under her breath, feeling the pleasure mount.  She felt a finger slide into her; she caught her breath. Another slid into her ass; she bit her lip.  
   
She wanted to come, wanted to come so very badly.  But Lisa knew her rhythms, held it off, held it off.  Kept her on the very knife-edge of pleasure.  Made her hurt so good with the orgasm so delayed.  Her body thrummed like a tightly-strung musical instrument, played by a master.  
   
She was whimpering by the time Lisa finished with her, wanting the release so very badly.  Denied it.  
   
“Roll over!” ordered Lisa abruptly. “Butt in the air!  Now!”  
   
Taylor did as she was told. Rolled on to her stomach.  Drew her knees up.  Thrust her butt into the air.  
   
Lisa leaned in close to her. “This is your punishment,” she breathed.  “The more you stand of it, the more reward later.  You tell me when you have had enough.”  
   
And then, across her upraised buttocks, she slashed the riding crop.  Taylor cried out.  
   
“Was that, ‘I have had enough’?” asked Lisa.  
   
“N-no,” managed Taylor. “More.  Do more.”  
   
Lisa struck her again, and again, setting her butt on fire with the strokes.  Taylor felt her mind clearing.   _I’m being punished,_  she realised.   _For everything I did wrong.  For all my failings.  This is my punishment, my penance._   She welcomed the cleansing pain, even as the tears leaked from her eyes.  
   
Lisa had to admire Taylor’s fortitude; she took quite a few strokes, and her butt was glowing a fine cherry red, before she finally said, “Enough, please.  I have had enough.”  
   
And then Taylor felt herself being rolled over, her thighs spread.  Lisa on top of her, kissing her, licking her nipples.  Something intruding, sliding between her labia, pushing gently into her vagina.  Taylor gasped and opened her eyes; Lisa was wearing a dildo strapped to her hips, sliding it into her.  
   
The sensation was  _incredible._  
   
Lisa kissed her again, hard, and whispered,  _“Now_  you can come.”  
   
At the same time, she drove the plastic penis all the way to the hilt inside Taylor’s wet and willing vagina.  
   
Taylor arched her back and came, screaming her pleasure at the top of her lungs.  Lisa kept pleasuring her, licking and sucking and biting her nipples, rubbing her clitoris, kissing her lips, biting her neck.  Thrusting hard into her, screwing her senseless.  
   
Taylor came again and again, all the frustrated tensions of the past weeks, all the pent-up pleasure that Lisa had forced her to bottle up inside of her, all coming out in this one massive, vast release.  
   
She had no idea of how many orgasms she had, or if they all counted as one earthshattering climax – Endbringer class, say – but she was not exactly thinking at the time.  At some point during Lisa’s tenderly rough handling of her body, she lost consciousness.  
   
***  
   
She came to, naked, on the bed. Lisa was sitting on the edge of the bed, clothed normally, stroking her hair.  Smiling down at her.  
   
“Lisa?” she croaked.  “Can I – can I talk now?”  
   
Lisa grinned her fox-like grin. “It’s over, Taylor.  How do you feel?”  
   
Taylor moved, feeling the residual soreness, the oh-so-nice tenderness between her labia, the pleasure still singing through her nerves.  “Like I’ve just been ridden hard and put away wet,” she said with a giggle of her own. “But oh my god, that was  _awesome.”_  
   
Lisa caressed her forehead. “And up here?”  
   
Taylor closed her eyes.  All the pain, all the chaos ...  
   
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “It’s gone.  It’s all gone.  I can  _think.”_  
   
Impulsively, she hugged Lisa, kissed her.  
   
Lisa chuckled and hugged her back, but kept the kiss from becoming too intimate.  
   
“Steady on,” she said with a smile that took the sting out of it.  “I can’t get into it unless I’m in total control.  My power, remember?”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “Well, thank you anyway,” she said.  “I feel so much better now.  I’ve been a bit of a bitch, haven’t I?”  
   
Lisa smiled, and caressed her cheek. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “We know how hard it is for you. I just decided you needed a ... release.”  
   
Taylor nodded.  “I appreciate it.  I really do.  I could never have asked for that on my own.  When you tried to get me to have sex with Brian ...”  
   
Lisa shuddered delicately.   _“That_  was a cock-up of massive proportions, pun definitely intended. Every time Brian got you close to being interested, you slipped away again.”  
   
Taylor nodded, and held Lisa close. “Well, you got my attention and kept it, this time,” she grinned.  “Let’s hope I never need anything as drastic as that again.”  
   
Lisa smiled and stroked her hair.  _You and I both know differently,_  she thought, but she kept quiet.  
   
***  
   
Taylor found that fresh clothes had been laid out for her; she dressed.  It was amazing how different she felt, with even clean underwear on. Lisa unlocked the door and stood aside.   
   
“You can go now,” she said with a smile.  “Brockton Bay needs you.”  
   
Taylor nodded, and gave her a heartfelt hug and a chaste kiss.  “Again, thank you,” she said.  She walked out the door, her mind already reaching out for her bugs, finding everything had remained calm in her absence.  
   
Over her shoulder, she said, “I think I might go visit Dad’s grave.  It’s been a while.  Want to come with?”  
   
Lisa smiled and followed her. “I think that’s a very good idea.”   
   
They joined hands and, side by side, went out into the day.  
 


	4. Grue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a big black man sneaks into Taylor bedroom and rapes her. She quite enjoys it.

“She needs to be raped.”  
   
Brian stopped sandpapering the door frame and turned to face Lisa.  Taylor sat nearby, eyes unfocused, apparently not even aware of the two of them.  
   
“Excuse me?” he said. “My hearing must be going.  I’m sure you just said –“  
   
“I said,” replied Lisa patiently, “that Taylor needs to be raped.  She needs to be grabbed, have her clothing torn from her, held down against her will, and sexually assaulted.  And she needs for it to be you that does it to her.”  
   
Brian shook his head. “Is this some sort of mind game? Because I’m not going to –“  
   
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you’re not going to  _really_  rape her.  But you need to  _pretend_  to be raping her.  And you need to pretend really well.  She needs to believe, on some level, that she is truly being sexually assaulted and violated –  _and that she is helpless to prevent this_. You need to force her to have sex with you.  She  _needs_  this.”  
   
He shook his head again. “After the fiasco the last time, I’m not sure –“  
   
“This is nothing like the last time,” she told him firmly.  “Then, you were trying to seduce her, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to go through with it.  You were trying to be gentle, but all you were was tentative.  You’d stop to see if she was okay with what you were doing, and she’d be off into bugland again.  Then you’d have to start all over again.”    
   
She shook her head. “No.  The only way to get her back inside her head, and allow her to function normally is to shock her out the state she’s in now.  And give her a really big orgasm.”  
   
He frowned.  “So, when you say, I have to pretend to rape her ...”  
   
She ticked off points on her fingers.  “Bruises are all right, but not too bad.  She’ll be wearing clothing that can be torn, so tear it.  Twisting arms, yes, but not breaking or dislocating bones. Forcible penetration ... well, this  _is_  simulated rape, after all.  For vaginal rape, we’ll either apply lube first or you hold her down, squeeze her breasts, call her names, let her struggle for a bit.  She’ll be wet enough when you put it in her.  For anal rape, we’ll apply lots of lube.”  
   
He rubbed his chin. “Forcing her to suck me?”  
   
She nodded.  “Oh, definitely.”  
   
“Penetrating her with my fingers first?”  
   
She nodded again. “Also, harsh and painful squeezing of her breasts and buttocks, squeezing her crotch.  Slapping her is fine, punching is not.”  She looked at him perceptively.  “You seem to like the idea of raping her.”  
   
He looked down and away. Didn’t say anything.  
   
She put a hand on his arm. “Look, having a taste for rough sex is perfectly normal.  Okay, so you’ve never been able to indulge.  It turns you on a bit; that’s good.  I know I can trust you to not go too far.  We both can.  It’s the only way Taylor would even agree to this.”  
   
“Is she ... going to know, when I’m going to do this?” he asked.  
   
She nodded.  “But she’s going to put it out of her mind. Consciously, she can’t lose control, can’t put down her mantle.  Can’t step down.  But we’re going to force her to do all of that, just for a little bit.  Give her time to destress, get her head together.”  
   
He looked at her, worried. “I’m scared I might screw it up. Can’t  _you_  do something?”  
   
She looked him in the eye. “I have.  Twice.  Took her into my room, told her she was a bad girl, made her act like a slave, fucked her stupid with a strap-on.  It worked a charm.  Second time, not so much. Third time, barely any effect. We need to swap out methods; otherwise, any one method loses effectiveness.”  
   
“Christ,” he said. He paused.  “Just from curiosity ... what happens if we don’t ... do this thing?”  
   
She looked at him soberly. “You know those scars on her stomach?”  
   
He nodded.  
   
“Well, imagine them about six inches deeper.”  Six inches was the length of the blade that Taylor carried everywhere.  
   
He was silent for a moment. “Fuck.”  
   
She nodded.  “Yeah.”  
   
He grimaced.  “I’ll do it.”  
   
She kissed him on the cheek.  “I know.  And she’ll thank you for it, after.”  
   
His tone was sombre. “I hope to Christ you’re right.”  
   
***  
   
Taylor looked around at her base, dark shadows overlaying everything.  She knew where it all was, of course.  Her bugs told her.  Her bugs overlaid the city.  She knew where  _everything_ was.  
   
She went to the front door, locked it.  She went upstairs to her bedroom.  Locked the door.  Then she unlocked it again, again telling herself that it was securely locked.  
   
 _No-one can get in. I am secure._  
   
She dressed in a flimsy lace teddy, equally flimsy panties.  
   
Lay down on the bed. Pulled the covers over herself. Closed her eyes.  
   
 _Now I am asleep._  
   
***  
   
The door creaked quietly open.  
   
***  
   
Taylor opened her eyes with a jolt.  The room was dark.  But she could hear stealthy movement.  
   
A moment later, the door swung shut behind the intruder.  
   
 _Oh god, there’s someone in here!_  
   
“Who-who’s there?” she said, her voice quavering.  
   
There was no answer.  
   
Something was close to her. She could feel it.  
   
“Go away!” she cried.  
   
And then an arm lashed out of the darkness, grabbed her by the upper arm, pulled hard.  She was yanked out of bed, dumped hard on her butt on the floor.  She screamed in terror.  
   
“What do you want?” she cried.  
   
“A good hard fuck, you hot little bitch,” came the growling voice from the darkness.  
   
“No, please!” she cried. “I’m a virgin!”  With the strength of terror, she pulled free of his grip, but he grabbed her teddy.  It tore as she pulled away, and she was left almost naked, wearing only tiny panties to cover her.  
   
“I’m gonna rape you, you little bitch,” came the inexorable voice.  “I’m gonna hold you down and fuck you so hard, your kids will be  _born_  pregnant.  I’m gonna split your bitch cunt wide open, so anyone can have a shot at you.”  
   
“Please,” she sobbed. “No, please.”  She scrambled for the ensuite bathroom; maybe she could barricade the door.  Two fingers caught her panties, tore them from her.    
   
She was naked. Vulnerable.  
   
She pushed through the door; the night-light glowed dimly.  But before she could close the door behind her, it was slammed open. He came through.  
   
He was tall.  He was strong.  He was black.  He was naked, except for a balaclava.  And he was hugely erect.  
   
She screamed at the sight of him.  
   
He grabbed her, forced her to her knees.  “Suck it!” he growled, thrusting his thick erection into her face.  She kept her mouth closed, shook her head.  He slapped her; her head rang with the blow. She opened her mouth.  Took his penis between her lips.  Sucked on it, licked it, let it slide deep into her throat. He groaned as she sucked on him, cupped his testicles, licked him, drew his cock deep into her throat over and over.  
   
Abruptly, he came, spurting sticky white cum all over her face and breasts and into her mouth. She wiped it off, looking shocked, but rather enjoying the taste.  
   
“Well, fuck,” he snarled. “You’re a good cocksucker, let’s see how big a slut you are.”  He jerked her to her feet, turned her around, and pushed her over the bathroom bench.  “Look at yourself, bitch,” he growled.  “Look at yourself while I fuck your tight little bitch cunt.”  
   
She stared into her own eyes, saw the tears running down her cheeks, the red mark of the slap on her face. The globs of cum on her face, in her hair.  Felt her labia being roughly rubbed.  Parted.  A finger feeling inside, feeling the flowing juices that had been soaking her panties since she first heard the voice of the ‘intruder’.  
   
“Oh god, please no,” she cried.  “Don’t do this!”  
   
She felt the tip of his rapidly-hardening penis being placed at the entrance to her vagina.  “Too late, bitch,” he growled, and thrust into her.  
   
She screamed.  
   
It felt  _wonderful._  
   
To be so out of control of the situation, to have someone holding everything over her, to have this happening against her express wishes ...  
   
And to have Brian slamming his thick cock into her, over and over again.  He gripped her breasts, squeezing them painfully.  She cried out, clawed at his hands, secretly welcomed the pain.  It kept her focused.  Like his erection, ‘raping’ her wet and willing vagina.  It drove her to heights of pleasure she had thought lost to her.  
   
Abruptly, she came, arching her back and crying out his name.  He continued to slam his cock into her.  “Like it, do you, bitch?” he growled.  
   
“No, please,” she wept. “Don’t rape me in my own bed!”  
   
That was a ‘Brer-Rabbit’ phrase; Taylor could express her wishes in this way, so that Brian had pointers, without her having to spell things out to him and spoil the illusion.  
   
“I just think I might,” he snarled.  Pulling out of her, he dragged her from the bathroom to the bed, threw her on the bed. She fell on her back, staring up at him in well-simulated terror.  
   
He grabbed her ankles, pushed them above her head, and thrust brutally hard into her once more. She gasped from the shock of his entry; Brian was really putting his all into the performance.  The rapist was getting his due.  
   
She was  _loving_  it.  
   
Brian, on top of Taylor, wished he could go on forever.  Taylor as a rape victim satisfied a small dark part of his soul, and turned him on just a little more than he was comfortable with.  But she was obviously enjoying it, despite her repeated protests, and her vagina was incredibly tight and wet.    
   
She came again as he ‘raped’ her, holding her ankles high, thrusting hard between her delicate – and throughly swollen – labia.  She cried out his name again, convulsing under his grasp, the pleasure obviously blasting all conscious thought from her mind.  Her vagina squeezed him, gripped him, drove him almost insane with arousal.  
   
He kept thrusting into her; she kept climaxing.  
   
Finally, he came, spurting wad after wad of his semen deep inside her.  He had only managed to hold out so long because of the first orgasm she had given him, and now he was giving of his all, spurting into her womb.  
   
Finally, he subsided over her, penis still embedded inside her, letting her ankles go.  
   
She reached up and pulled his balaclava off, kissed him gently.  
   
The darkness that permeated the room faded, showing it to be mid-afternoon outside.  
   
“Thank you, Brian,” she said, holding him close.  “That was wonderful.”  
   
He put his arms around her. “I’ll do anything for you, you know,” he said seriously.  
   
She nodded.  “I know.”  She smiled.  “In fact, there’s something you can do for me right now.”  
   
“Oh?” he asked.  
   
She kissed him again, her mouth firm and inviting.  He felt her tongue protruding into his mouth.  
   
“You can make love to me just once, before we have to stop,” she whispered.  “Just Taylor, and Brian, together.  Like we were, back before it all began.”  
   
He smiled, and moved his hips, his erection beginning to return, deep inside her.  
   
Gently, he kissed her, then lowered his mouth and kissed each of her nipples.  As his lips closed over them, she sighed and arched her back slightly.  
   
She put her arms around him, dragged her nails across his back.  “Just because you’re not raping me doesn’t mean you can’t be a  _little_  rough,” she said pointedly.  
   
He took the point, and began thrusting into her again.  They kissed, again and again.  His mouth encircled her nipples, sucked hard.  She moaned, and clutched at him.  He thrust harder into her, sliding his thick penis deep into her slippery wetness.  
   
She came twice more before he he finally climaxed for a third and final time.  
   
After, they lay together in the tangled sheets.  Friends, now, not lovers, and not rapist and victim.  
   
She put her hand on his arm.  “Jess ...” she began.  
   
“She’ll understand,” he said.  “She knows how important you are to Brockton Bay.  Lisa spoke to her, explained it all.”  He frowned. “In a really weird way, she’s  _proud_  of me.”  
   
She nodded.  “Please tell her thank you from me.”  
   
He nodded also, and sat up. “Well, I guess that’s it.”  
   
She sat up beside him, got off the bed, headed for the bathroom.  Looking over her shoulder as she opened the door, she grinned. “Until the next time I need to be held down and ravished.”  
   
He grinned in return, picking up his shirt from where it was folded on the bedside table.  “I live to serve.”  
   
***  
   
She had a shower; he went back to his wife.  
   
***  
   
Life went on.  
   
And once more, Taylor was part of it.  Thanks to Brian and Lisa.  
 


	5. Regent and Imp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor is used as a sex puppet

Lisa picked up the phone, dialled.  
   
 _“You’ve got Regent,”_ she heard.  
   
“Alec,” she said.  “She’s been in there four days. She’s locked the door.  Not listening to anything I’ve got to say. It’s bad.  I think you should take a hand.”  
   
 _“Christ,”_  said Regent.   _“We promised we would always wait till she asked.”_  
  
“I know,” said Lisa.  “But  _four days_ , Alec.”  
   
 _“Remember Captain’s Hill?”_  asked Alec.   _“Taylor went **nine days**  without eating.  Sat in that hole with a water bottle and a gun.  Nine fucking days, for one chance at a shot.  And when the time came, she did the job.  Dropped the motherfucker.   **And**  exfiltrated.  We couldn’t help.  We were caught up in the fighting at the Docklands.”_  
  
“I remember.  But that was  _war,_ Alec!” Lisa protested.  “And she was in intensive care for a week after.”  
   
 _“And this is Taylor,”_  replied Alec.   _“She’s earned it.  She gets to say when.”_  
  
 “Fuck,” said Lisa.  “I hope you’re right.  I don’t want to have to bury another friend.”  
   
There was a pause on the line.  
   
“Alec?”  
   
 _“Never mind,”_ he said.  _“She just asked for help.”_  
  
Lisa sagged back with relief.  “Thank fucking Christ for that.”  
   
***  
   
Alec looked at the wall next to where he was sitting.  On it, spelled out in bugs, was the word PLEASE.  
   
“Yeah,” he said.  “I’m gonna have to hang up now. Let everyone know; no distractions. I’m gonna be busy.”  
   
 _“You got it,”_ Lisa assured him.  
   
Alec closed his eyes, and concentrated.  
   
***  
   
Taylor sat back in her favourite chair.  She wasn’t feeling the comfort of it.  Her eyes were open, but she did not see the room.  Every four seconds, she blinked.  That was as much control as she gave to her body.  
   
On the chair arm beside her was a microwave meal dish, empty, dried out, with a dirty plastic fork in it.  There was a large water bottle beside the chair, the lid off.  It was almost empty.  
   
She wore just underwear, stained with sweat and other things.   _She_  was sweat-stained.  Her hair hung in ratty tangles.  
   
Her mind … was elsewhere.  
   
Hundreds of millions of bugs infested Brockton Bay and its environs.  Taylor controlled every single one of them. Hundreds of millions of bodies, living, breeding, flying, crawling, watching, listening.  Keeping order.  
   
Hers was just one body.  She could ignore it for a while longer.  
   
A small part of her, the part that had heard Lisa banging on the door, her impassioned pleas to be let in, made a small change in the behaviour of some insects in a certain location.  
   
Her eyes closed, then opened.  She looked around, her body language very subtly different.  
   
She looked down at herself, prodded at a visible rib.  
   
“Christ, girl,” she said out loud.  “What have you been  _doing_  to yourself?”  
   
She pushed herself erect, gritting teeth through cramps of long-unused muscles. Walked on unsteady legs to the fridge. Opened it, got out a bottle of chilled water.  Drank the lot down.  
   
There were more meals in the freezer.  She put one in the microwave, hit the start button, then headed for the bathroom. With a grimace, she discarded the filthy underwear and stepped into the shower.  First, water to nearly scalding levels, she scrubbed the grime off herself. Then, freezing, eliciting a gasp of true shock as the Taylor inside finally noticed what was going on.  
   
“Hah, you like that, do you?” she said cheerfully.  She stood under the freezing shower, turning around to make sure all sides of her were well and truly chilled.  Then she rinsed her hair thoroughly.  
   
By the time she stepped from the shower, and put her glasses on, the microwave had  _dinged_ , and she was shivering.  She dried herself off roughly, rubbing hard between her legs, and took the meal from the oven.  Donning just a bathrobe, not bothering to tie it, she sat down and ate the meal hungrily.  
   
She appeared to mumble something, and then spoke more clearly.  “’m good now.  You can let go.”  
   
“Yeah, right,” she said to herself.  “I let you go now, you’ll be right back in that chair.  No way, girl.  You get what’s coming to you.  Imp wants to  _play.”_  
   
Standing up, she shrugged off the robe and performed a series of basic stretching exercises.  Then, apparently satisfied, she roughly brushed her hair, then turned around and spanked herself half a dozen times with the hairbrush.  
   
“Oh yeah,” she said.  “You liked  _that_ , didn’t you?”  
  
She reached between her legs, feeling between her labia.  “Oh yeah,” she said.  “That got you wet.”  
   
She bent over the table and spanked herself a dozen times more.  “All  _right,”_  she said with a grin.  “You’re finally awake.”  
   
Humming to herself, she opened closets, drawers, selected clothing.  From time to time, she rubbed herself between the legs, pinched her nipples, or smacked her own ass with her bare hand.  
   
“Stay with me now,” she said out loud.  “If you go drifting away, Imp will have to get  _serious._   And you know how Imp gets then.”  
   
For panties, she selected a pair that was white lace, and almost totally see-through. “Heh,” she said.  “I’m guessing Lisa loaned you these, and you’ve never worn them?  Well, good enough.”  She climbed into them, and experimentally slapped her ass a few more times.  “That works,” she allowed.  
   
A pair of shorts went on next, and a t-shirt.  “Won’t need a bra,” she decided out loud.  “Not with what you’re gonna be doing.”  
   
She walked to the door and opened it; outside, Brian and Lisa sat, with worried expressions.  
   
“It’s me,” she said.  “Alec. She was pretty zoned, but she asked for help.  I’m taking her over to my place. Could someone clean up in there? Place is a pigsty.”  
   
Brian frowned.  “This could be a double bluff. Prove it’s you, Alec.”  
   
Taylor chuckled.  “So, a Master/Stranger protocol to prove it’s really a Master controlling her?  That’s a bit of a role reversal.  Okay … let’s see.  Aisha likes to listen to birdsong when she masturbates.”  
   
Brian blinked and shook his head.  “Oh, you did  _not_  just fucking say that.”  
   
Taylor’s mouth grinned.  “But could Taylor come up with something like that on the fly to totally squick you out?”  
   
Brian nodded judiciously.  “Fair point.  Okay, it’s you.  Take care with her, okay?”  
   
Taylor grinned, grabbed him, and kissed him thoroughly.  “Oh, you  _do_  care, you big lunk,” she giggled, smacking him on the ass.  Then she danced out the door, singing a tune Brian didn’t catch.  
   
“Fuck, I hate it when he gets in that mood,” he grumbled.  “What was that he had Taylor singing, anyway?”  
   
Lisa rolled her eyes.  “Weeeee’re  _off_  to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz,” she repeated.  
   
“Oh boy,” said Brian.  “When he’s that playful … Taylor’s in for a  _time.”_  
   
Lisa nodded.  “Yeah,” she said.  “But I think she needs it.”  She dusted her hands.  “Come on, stud-muffin,” she grinned.  “Let’s go clean Taylor’s place.”  
   
“I’m half inclined to believe that this is just a ploy on her part so she doesn’t have to clean,” grumped Brian, but he followed her in through the door anyway.  
   
***  
   
The driver of the car had specific orders.  He was to drive Taylor Hebert to the location she specified.  He was to wait at that location until she required a lift back.  He was to forget, utterly, anything strange that she said or did on the way there or back.  
   
 _Anything._  
   
Commander Wilbourn had been very specific about that.  
   
He intended to follow his orders to the letter.  
   
But it wasn't easy when there was a teenage girl with her t-shirt up around her neck, and her shorts and panties around her ankles, masturbating furiously in the back seat.  
   
Worse yet was the way she was talking to herself, as if there were two people back there.  And the  _things_  she was saying to herself ...  
   
He kept his eyes on the road ahead and drove like a robot, and  _did not think_  about what was happening in the seat behind him.  
   
Because this was  _Taylor Hebert_.  And even if it wasn't, he knew of people who had tried to put something over on Commander Wilbourn.  It had never ended well.  
   
***  
   
Taylor had her shorts up and her t-shirt down by the time the driver pulled up at the specified location.  
   
"You have your orders," she said, and got out of the car.  
   
He had his orders.  He would follow them to the letter.  
   
But  _boy_ , was his girlfriend in for a surprise, tonight.  
   
***  
   
Inside her own mind, Taylor struggled to think straight.  Regent knew too well how to drag her away from her connection with her bugs; pain was something she had felt far too often to break her concentration, but pleasure was something else.  Her body craved it, and when she got it, she embraced it.  Paradoxically, it was certain types of pain, applied under certain circumstances, that afforded her the most pleasure.  Lisa had told her bluntly that it was because she secretly wanted to be punished for imaginary failings.  Taylor did not consider them to be so imaginary.  
   
Her body walked up to the door of the nondescript house and opened it.  Aisha stood there, wearing a tight halter-top and tighter shorts, close fitting enough that Taylor could see that there was nothing under them except Aisha.  She was grinning.  Taylor quailed inwardly; when Imp grinned like that, someone was in for a bad time.  _And that someone is me._  
   
Taylor closed the door behind her, then leaned in and kissed Aisha.  The younger girl grabbed her and kissed her back, hard. At the same time, she reached under Taylor's t-shirt and pinched her nipple, hard.  Taylor's body flinched slightly, but the sensation that went through her was far more arousing than anything else.  
   
It was why she had willingly accepted Regent's assumption of control over her body. She knew she could trust him - utterly trust him - to not use his ability on her except when she asked it of him. In return, when he did use it, the things he forced her to do, the knowledge of what was going to happen to her, aroused her far more than if she had just done those things to herself, or walked up to the house and let those things happen to her.  
   
 “Alec,” said Aisha with a little-girl whine in her voice, “she’s still wearing  _clothes.”_  
   
“Ah, sorry,” Taylor heard herself say, and she began to peel out of her t-shirt.  
   
“Not like  _that_ ,” Aisha scolded her, slapping her on the arm.  “Make it  _good._ Come on, let’s go into the bedroom.”  
   
She led the way, her firm rounded buttocks tightly outlined by her shorts; Taylor’s body walked after her, eyes fixed on Aisha’s ass.  
   
Regent was lounging on the large double bed in the bedroom, wearing boxers and nothing else.  He smiled when he saw Taylor.  
   
“It’s been too long,” he said cheerfully.  “You should have asked for help yesterday, or the day before. Seriously, look at her,” he said to Aisha.  “She’s skin and bone.”  
   
“Well, before I  _look_ at her,” retorted Aisha, “she’s going to have to take her  _clothes_  off, you know.”  
   
Regent rolled his eyes.  “Fine, fine.  Let’s see what she’s got.”  
   
Taylor felt her body begin to gyrate, swaying in a surprisingly graceful, sexy motion.  Aisha leaned back against the bed, watching, rubbing herself between the legs.  
   
Her arms came up and peeled the t-shirt over her head; she discarded it, cupping her breasts, rubbing her nipples, squeezing and pinching them.  
   
“Oh yeah,” said Aisha.  “That’s the way to do it.”  Her hand was inside her shorts now, fingers outlined against the tight cloth, moving rhythmically.  
   
Taylor turned around, feeling her hands caressing her breasts, her stomach, her naked torso, then slapping her ass.  
   
“Which reminds me,” said Regent.  “Got the strap?”  
   
“Ooh, ooh, ohh, the strap,” said Aisha.  “Can I?  Can I?”  
   
Regent chuckled indulgently.  “Yes, you can,” he said.  “When it’s time.”  
   
Taylor bent over, slowly sliding her shorts off her hips, down her thighs.  They slid to the ground; she stepped out of them, then spread her legs, bent over, running her hands back and forth between her thighs, rubbing her sensitive labia through the thin lace.  
   
“Wow, sexy panties,” observed Aisha.  “Taylor never bought those.”  
   
“Lisa,” Regent explained.  
   
“Ah.”  
   
Taylor knelt before Aisha, kissing her feet. Aisha giggled.  “I am your slave, o mistress,” she heard herself say. “Use me, abuse me, make me cry out in pain and pleasure.”  
   
“Damn,” Aisha said to Regent.  “You really know how to turn a girl on.”  
   
Taylor rose to her knees, hands caressing Aisha’s ass and ribs before finding the fastening for her halter top and undoing it. It came free; Aisha’s firm rounded breasts bobbed slightly before they found their own level.  
   
“Mistress,” her mouth said.  “May I lick your breasts?  They are so much nicer than mine.”  
   
“Yeah,” said Aisha.  “But you better do it real good.”  She reached down and squeezed Taylor’s own breasts, digging her nails in. Taylor felt the pain and the beginnings of arousal from this.  
   
Her mouth approached Aisha’s breast; the dark little aureole around the outstanding nipple.  
   
And then control over her face, her mouth, ceased. She had been ready for Regent to use her as a puppet to pleasure his girlfriend, but all of a sudden, she was in the driver’s seat.  Caught unaware, she fumbled, tried to lick, to suck, to please Aisha, only to have the girl pull back with an expression of annoyance.  
   
“Call that a good breast-licking?  You’re terrible.  Seriously.  Get up. Bend over the bed.  Your ass is gonna get a whoopin’ for that pitiful effort.”  
   
“Wait, I –“ Taylor began, trying to say that she could do better.  But then Regent took over again, and she fell silent.  
   
“You what?” asked Aisha, even as Taylor stood.  
   
“I need to take my panties off,” Taylor’s voice purred. “So you can see my ass while you’re spanking it.”  
   
“Good idea, good idea,” agreed Aisha.  “Get ‘em off.”  
   
Taylor felt her hands run over her breasts, down her stomach, to between her legs, where she rubbed her rapidly-moistening vagina.  Then she bent over the bed and slowly, slowly removed her panties, while Aisha watched, licking her lips.  
   
“You really want that ass-whoopin’, don’t you?” asked Aisha in a teasing tone of voice.  
   
“Oh yes,” breathed Taylor’s voice in a sultry tone she’d never used in her life.  “Spank my ass so hard.”  
   
Regent handed Aisha a broad black leather strap; the younger girl stripped out of her shorts before she approached Taylor once more, so that they were both entirely naked now.  Taylor rested her elbows on the bed, and pushed her ass out behind her. She wanted to look back at Aisha, see when the spanking was due to start, but Regent still had total control of her body.  
   
The first smack of the belt across her buttocks came as a total surprise, and even Regent’s control was not enough to prevent her from jumping slightly, and letting out a small yelp of pain.  
   
It stung like fire, and the second smack did not help matters.  
   
Taylor maintained that pose as Aisha punished her bare buttocks, smacking the strap across them again and again.  
   
“Any time you want me to stop, just say so,” grinned Aisha.  She swung the strap again.  
   
Taylor felt tears welling in her eyes, tried to ask her to stop.  She could not.  Could not speak.  
   
And then she felt the pain of the strapping blending together with the arousal she was already feeling.  It hurt … it hurt so very good.  She felt her arousal mounting, felt the liquid fire spreading through her groin, out through her body.  
   
Pain was good.  Punishment was good.  She had screwed up so many times.  People had died.  They said she had saved lives, that she had won the war, but she could have done it better, could have done it faster.  
   
She  _deserved_ this.  
   
She wanted this.  
   
“Wow,” said Regent.  “She’s really getting into this.”  
   
“Good,” said Aisha.  “Get her to suck you.”  She swung the strap again, the impact loud against Taylor’s already-reddened ass.  
   
Taylor found herself faced with Regent’s erect penis, and once again, she had control, of her neck and head only.  
   
“Do a good job,” he said softly, “and Aisha stops smacking you.”  
   
She immediately opened her mouth and lowered her mouth on to Regent’s hard erection.  She enfolded it with her tongue and lips, teasing the tiny slit at the tip, and then moving her lips downward.  Regent groaned.  
   
Aisha continued to smack Taylor’s ass while she sucked on Regent’s penis.  He leaned back, letting her work.  “Oh yeah, oh yeah,” he said.  “Oh, that’s the stuff.”  
   
Taylor moved her lips up and down his shaft, nibbling on him and making him groan.  
   
“Yeah, she’s doing good, Aisha,” he said. “You can fuck her now.”  
   
Between being forced to fellate Regent, and the burning feeling from her ass, Taylor was now highly aroused.  She kept sucking hard at his cock, swirling her tongue around the head and shaft, bobbing her head up and down.  
   
And then she felt hands caressing her stinging buttocks, running between her thighs, touching and parting her labia.  Fingers explored within, found her slippery wetness.  
   
“Oh yeah,” said Aisha from behind her.  “She’s hot to trot.”  
   
Taylor felt something thick and rounded begin to push into her from behind; her labia parted and the thing began to slide into her vaginal canal.  It was bigger than she was used to, and she felt herself stretching to accommodate.  
   
It was  _incredible._  
   
She continued to suck on Regent’s erection, feeling the tension in him, the clenching.  Aisha slid the dildo into her, all the way to the hilt; the younger girl’s belly came flat up to Taylor’s well-smacked ass.  
   
And then, just as Aisha began to slide in and out, Regent came; his cock jerked, spurting wad after wad of his sticky cum into her mouth.  She choked and gagged and swallowed a good deal of it; while the rest went on to her face.  
   
Aisha grasped her hips, thrusting harder and harder into her, as she felt Regent reassert control, and her mouth began to lick and suck him clean, and resuscitate him for later use.  
   
“That was pretty damn good,” he said.  Taylor panted, her body washing with waves of pleasure as Aisha took her from behind, hard and fast, the plastic cock driving into her tight vaginal canal.  
   
And then she came, the climax blasting through her, scouring her mind clear of all thoughts, leaving drooling imbecility in its wake.  
   
She came to, kneeling on all fours on the bed. Her pussy still throbbed from Aisha’s attentions, as her buttocks did from the spanking.  Aisha positioned herself in front of her, lying back, legs spread.    
   
Taylor felt herself gain control of her head and neck once more, but it was pretty easy to tell what was expected of her. She had eaten Lisa several times since Lisa had first taken her to bed, so she actually had a fair idea of what to do here.  
   
So, she lowered her head and began to lap and lick and nibble at Aisha’s soft red-brown labia.  Aisha arched her back and squeezed her own breasts.  “Oh yeah,” she moaned.  “You’re a real good pussy licker.”  
   
And then Taylor felt something cold and slippery being pushed into her ass; Regent’s finger, covered in lube, she realised a seond later.  
   
“No,” she managed before he froze her vocal cords. Her neck muscles pushed her head back down toward Aisha’s bare pussy, and she obediently began to suck and nibble at her, causing Aisha to moan again.  
   
That was when she felt the penis begin to intrude between her buttocks.  Her anus was forced open, spreading wider and wider as she lapped in long slow strokes between Aisha’s labia, over and over again.  
   
When the head of Regent’s thick cock popped inside her anal sphincter, she gasped.  He felt so  _big!_  
   
“Hey, keep it up,” warned Aisha.  “Or I’ll get Alec to fuck you and I’ll spank you while he’s doing it.”  
   
Taylor realised that she’d slackened in her ministrations, and hastened to comply.  She pushed her mouth close to Aisha’s musky vagina, and slid her tongue in between the folds of flesh, deep into her vaginal canal.  Juices flowed; she drank of them, smearing them on her face, as she pleasured the girl before her as best she knew how.  
   
And behind her, the thick penis slid inexorably between her buttocks, into her rectum, penetrating into her secret depths. When Regent finally came to a halt, it was because his scrotum was gently touching her arousal-slick labia, and it felt as though her ass was stretched to the limit.  
   
Regent wasn’t as big as Brian – she knew this from personal experience – but right now, she would never be able to prove that.  
   
Under her mouth, Aisha began to climax, just as Regent began to stroke in and out of Taylor’s overstuffed ass.  She did her best to keep Aisha on that point of pleasure, to force her to come again and again, all the while undergoing brain-melting pleasure from the sensation of Regent thoroughly rogering her tender ass.  
   
The actual feeling of what he was doing to her was slightly painful, but the  _knowledge_  of it, and the twin awarenesses that she could not stop him, and that she could trust him utterly, turned it into an incredibly erotic experience.  Even the pain felt good; she craved it, wanted more.  
   
Aisha came under her again and again, crying out, wrapping her thighs around Taylor’s head, so that she was trapped in a warm dark cavern, and her entire world was Aisha’s sex and Regent’s penis.  
   
She came next, arching her back involuntarily, sucking Aisha’s clitoris into her mouth and nipping at it – which caused Aisha to hit another orgasmic high, of course.  
   
And then Regent came, deep inside her, spraying his hot white seed into her bowels, pumping it into her buttocks, over and over again.  She climaxed again herself, crying out, feeling her mind white out from sheer pleasure.  
   
***  
   
She lay between Aisha and Regent, caressing the girl’s breasts gently, kissing her tenderly.  Regent caressed her from behind, cupping her breasts.  
   
Suddenly, she realised that she was under no control, that she was sharing pleasures of her own accord.  She kissed Aisha again, and was kissed back in return.  
   
“Thank you,” she whispered.  “Thank you.”  
   
Aisha grinned and kissed her, hard.  “Oh, don’t thank us yet,” she grinned.  “Got some stuff to do first.”  
   
***  
   
Still naked, she sat and ate a large meal; whenever she faltered, she felt her hands continue to move, cutting food, lifting it to her mouth.  She felt her stomach fill up for the first time in days.  How long had it been since she had made herself a proper meal?  
   
Her stomach rumbled, and she felt pressure in her nether regions.  
   
Regent grinned.  “You might want to go deal with that,” he said.  “You need to get your digestive system working again.”  
   
So she went, and sat, and felt things come out of her, with appropriate sound effects.  And afterward, she felt much, much better.  
   
***  
   
Aisha met her, and guided her to the shower.  
   
“But I had one,” she protested.  “Regent made me take one, before I came.”  
   
“And you’re having another one,” Aisha said. “With me.  Because I like shower sex with you.”  
   
She couldn’t argue with that.  She got under the shower with Aisha, and kissed her. Aisha kissed her back.  The shower area was actually fairly large, which was a good thing, because Regent soon joined them, while Aisha gently and erotically washed her all over.  
   
She kissed both of them, and caressed their bodies, and they caressed hers in turn.  Aisha guided her down to lie on the soft rubber matting floor, where her face was out of the spray, and proceeded to ravish her soft, tender labia and clitoris to great effect; Taylor came twice under her ministrations, while Regent took Aisha from behind.  
   
And then Regent got down between Taylor’s thighs, and slid his penis between her labia and into her still-tingling vaginal canal, and made sweet and gentle love to her.  
   
She clung to him, crying out incoherently as he kissed her and sucked on her nipples, thrusting hard into her slippery wetness, over and over again.  She wasn’t sure if he came inside her that time, but she certainly reached orgasm, several times.  
   
She held him after she came for the last time, and cried, and kissed him, and told him that she loved him.  
   
He held her in his arms and comforted her.  It was all he could do.  
   
***  
   
They ended up back on the bed, just a little damp here and there, and moist in other places.  Aisha tickled Taylor, and giggled when she  _eeped_ , and said to Regent, “Let’s sandwich her.”  
   
“Not a bad idea,” said Regent.  “A going-away present, let’s call it.”  He turned to Taylor and kissed her.  “Who do you want in front, and who do you want in back?”  
   
Taylor smiled lazily – her own smile – and said, “Aisha hasn’t had my ass yet.  I want you in my pussy.”  She kissed him; their tongues touched, and ran over one another.   
   
Aisha giggled.  “I’ll get the strap-on again.”  
   
Taylor looked over her shoulder.  “Before you put it in me, Aisha … smack my ass again. I think I need a little more.  As a reminder.”  
   
She felt a surge of arousal at being able to ask for that, and knowing that she would get exactly what she asked for.  
   
***  
   
Regent lay back, his erection stiff and ready. Taylor straddled him, feeling under her, sliding his cock up and down between her swollen labia, sighing with the sensations.  Then she placed him carefully at the entrance to her vaginal canal, and slowly slid down upon him, impaling herself upon his thick penis.  
   
“Ooooh yeah,” groaned Regent.  “That never gets old.”    
   
Taylor grinned, leaning down to kiss him, working her hips back and forth.  
   
The first smack on her ass took her by surprise, as she had intended, and she clenched around Regent’s intruding shaft.  He groaned with sheer pleasure.  She continued to work her hips, as more blows from the strap smacked into her taut buttocks, setting off the feeling of fire in her ass once more.  
   
“That’ll do,” she groaned after a dozen strokes had fallen.  “I need you, now.” Leaning forward to kiss Regent, to rub her breasts on his chest, she presented her ass for Aisha’s use.  
   
Aisha had lubed up the dildo, and a little more lube had been rubbed into Taylor’s tight brown pucker, and so when she felt the plastic penis pressing into her, she let herself relax.  Aisha slid the dildo into her already well-fucked ass with hardly a pause.  
   
With Regent under her, and Aisha behind her, Taylor felt that both orificies were as full as they had ever been.  She worked her hips, sliding up and down slightly, making Regent groan and buck his hips under her.  Behind her, Aisha thrust hard between her buttocks, reaching forward to grab and squeeze her breasts.  Taylor cried out, feeling both of them driving her toward orgasm faster than she would have believed possible.  
   
She kissed Regent, feeling the dildo pumping deeply into her, feeling his penis thrusting against the walls of her clenching vagina, and then she came, arching her back and crying out she knew not what.  
   
It took a while to push Regent to climax, but she did, possibly aided by Aisha’s steady thrusting into her sorely abused rectum. She came one last time as he arched his back and spurted jets of hot cum into her pulsating womb.  
   
***  
   
It took her a while longer to recover.  She lay with Alec and Aisha, kissing and caressing them, being kissed and caressed in turn.  
   
“Thank you both,” she said.  “I needed that so badly.”  
   
Aisha giggled.  “Call me up sometime.  I’ll come on over and give you a surprise orgasm.”  
   
Taylor grinned and kissed her.  “I’ll do that,” she promised.  
   
She climbed out of bed, moving carefully, and located her clothes.  Regent lay on his back with his hands under his head, watching her.  Aisha lay across his chest, grinning at her; this time, the grin brought an answering one to Taylor’s face.  
   
 _That was actually kinda fun._  
   
“Thanks for the meal, too,” she said.  “I appreciate it.  All of it.”  
   
Regent tipped her a grin.  “All part of the service,” he chuckled.  
   
Aisha giggled.  “The service,” she repeated.  “Geddit?”  
   
Taylor grinned and shook her head.  “Don’t ever change,” she said to Aisha, then pulled the t-shirt over her head.  
   
Fully dressed, she leaned down and kissed them both. “Visit sometime,” she said.  “You know you’re welcome.”  
   
Aisha scrambled up for a hug; naked dark skin against clothed pale.   _“You_ come visit,” she said sternly.  “Without needing Alec to make you do it.”  
   
Taylor rolled her eyes and grinned.  “I’ll try,” she smiled, and kissed Aisha again.  
   
Then she walked out of the room, out of the house.  
   
The driver looked around as she approached.  She seemed … different, somehow.  
   
This time, she got in the front seat.  “Home,” she ordered.  
   
He started the car, put it in gear.  He wasn’t there to question, just to follow orders. And he had his orders.  
   
Taylor leaned back against the seat as the car moved off.    
   
 _Crisis averted,_  she thought.   _Until the next time._  
 


	6. Parahuman Response Teams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Taylor gives herself up to the PRT, and accepts the consequences

Taylor sighed.  
   
“For  _fuck’s_  sake,” she complained out loud, to the empty room.  Her hands rubbed her wrists, as if tracing bruises or cuts. There were none, of course. Panacea made sure of that, with her weekly checks.  Taylor would never suffer permanent injury through her sexual adventures, and she would never become pregnant ... not unwillingly, anyway.  
   
Though ... she was wondering if it might not be an idea to let Brian get her pregnant, or maybe Alec. Or maybe Panacea herself, through the alchemy of her powers.  To carry a baby to term, to give birth, to bring some life into the world, after all she’d sent from it.  
   
But not today.  
   
Not until she had her issues under control.  
   
She wasn’t as bad as she had been before Lisa had dominated her for the first time – but by far not the last! – had forced her to accept submission, had driven her to blinding orgasms, over and over.  Had freed her mind from the grip of the overwhelming  _responsibility_.  Just for a little while.  
   
And coming back to it, the burden was easier to bear.  Just a little.  Still crushing, just ... not quite  _as_  crushing as it had been before.  
   
But as ever, the signs began to mount up again.  She needed, once more, to be forced to let go, to give up control, in the most basic, most primal way possible.  
   
She rubbed her thighs together.  
   
Even her body was rebelling against the iron control that her mind held over it.  Did she really want  _that?_   Again?  Even though the first time had never really happened?  
   
But apparently she did.  
   
 _Christ **fuck.**_  
   
 _I’m going to be sore all day tomorrow._  
   
But the soreness helped keep her centred.  She knew that.  In a way, she welcomed it.  
   
With a sigh, she got up and went to the bathroom, dropping clothes as she went.  She showered, taking care to clean her vaginal and anal areas carefully.  Appearances had to be maintained.  
   
While she showered, while she carefully shaved her nether areas, she maintained her control of the invisible network that blanketed Brockton Bay.  
   
 _Mugging in alley off Lord St._  
   
Two police officers sitting post in their cruiser had a wasp fly in the window, and tap loudly on the map with its stinger.  A point on the map.  They responded fast; they knew exactly what this meant.  
   
By the time they got there, the muggers were unconscious on the ground, and the victim watching the swarm dissipate into the surrounding area.  
   
Other crimes, other responses.  She was  _good_  at this.  
   
But it was taking a toll on her, wearing her down.  She needed to take time off.  
   
Thus ... this.  
   
She dressed in a hoodie, carefully washed and put away.  The same hoodie she had been wearing the first time.  
   
Same jeans, too.  
   
Not the same underwear. That had been torn, destroyed. She selected some lightweight silkwear, courtesy of her spare black widows.  She had them make this stuff up in their spare time.  These days, they had a lot of spare time.  
   
Even the same sneakers, perhaps crusted in the gaps in the treads with the mud and blood that she had trodden through, all that time ago, to reach the PRT strongpoint, to present herself to that idiot Tagg.  
   
He had sneered in her face, had had her taken, stripped, bent over an army cot.  Had ordered his guards to take their turns with her. But before the first could begin, the shot had rung out.  
   
Miss Militia.  
   
She had stood there, steadfast, while Taylor had replaced her clothing, drawn back her swarm from the point of attack.  Had looked dispassionately at the dead man on the ground.  
   
Miss Militia had saluted her then, had asked “What can we do for you?”  
   
That was long ago, but it was why Brockton Bay still had a PRT presence at all, and Miss Militia at the head of it.  
   
They knew what was expected of them, in general and in this specific circumstance.  
   
She sighed again, realising that she was putting off walking out the door.  
   
She walked out the door.  
   
She knew, of course, where Lisa was.  Leaning in the door, she said casually, “I’m just going to give myself up.  I should be back sometime later.”  
   
Lisa smiled and got up from her lounger, came over and hugged her.  “Oh good,” she said, and kissed her gently on the lips.  “Tell Hannah hi from me, will you?”  
   
Taylor grinned. “Sure thing,” she said.  
   
Trotting down the stairs, she signalled her driver with a bug.  When she walked out the door, the car was waiting at the curb.  
   
“Where to?” he asked, eyes front.  
   
She began to answer, paused.  “The cemetery,” she said at last.   _One more detour,_  she told herself.   _Surely, I’m permitted this._  
   
The car pulled up at the cemetery gates.  Even allowing for the number of casualties simply marked MIA, the gravestones, the markers, spread far beyond the original generous boundaries of the property.  It was a grim, silent reminder of the war.  
   
She passed between the gravestones of her father and her mother, letting her hands trail over them both.  Annette Rose Hebert had died in a car accident; Danny Hebert had died years later, relatively early in the war.   
   
But he had made his death count for something; many of her Skitterlings owed their lives to what some called his ‘Pied Piper run’.  In certain bars, on certain days of the year, men who had never known her father in life would lift their drinks in a toast to “Danny Hebert – he saved the kids”.  
   
However, this was not her destination, today.  She walked on.  
   
A marble bust atop the gravestone wore his helmet.  She lifted it off, carefully polished away some marks, replaced it.  The stone simply read: “TECTON – My Eternal Rock.”  
   
She stood for a while with her hand on the stone, feeling the warmth of the day.  She didn’t speak out loud; she didn’t need to.  Tears did not often come to her eyes, as a rule, not these days.  One trickled down her cheek now.  
   
After a time, she turned and walked away.  
   
***  
   
Back in the car, she blew her nose, then said, “The PRT building.”  
   
“Ma’am.”  
   
The driver did not question her decision.  It wasn’t his job to.  He drove her to the PRT building.  
   
It was built on almost exactly the same spot as the previous building, but there was now a statue standing in the lobby, of a woman in ragged clothes, bandages about her wounds, holding a rifle, peering through rubble, forever defending this building against incursion.  The plaque on the base simply read “Director Emily Piggot, Parahuman Response Teams”.  
   
She walked up to the statue, reached up, patted the shoulder of the woman; there was a bright patch on the bronze there, as if many other people did the same thing.  
   
 _Rest easy, Emily. You helped win the war.  We will remember you._  
   
Emily Piggot was also the reason why the head of the PRT in Brockton Bay held the title of  _Deputy_  Director.  Because the Director was in the lobby, and always would be.  
   
She sighed.   _May as well get this over with._  
   
Walking past the statue, she knelt, put her hands behind her neck, bowed her head.  
   
***  
   
They burst from the doors, guns up, yelling, screaming at her to get down on the floor, down, down, down.  She was forced down, face hard against the gritty marble, arms pulled behind her back, cuffed together.  
   
And the excitement growing inside her.  
   
Picked up, half-marched, half-dragged through the corridors.  Up in the elevator.  The guard whispered something obscene in her ear, groped her breast.  She whimpered, tried to pull away.  He groped harder.  She whimpered again.  He squeezed her ass.  
   
For a moment, she wondered if they were going to do it to her right there in the elevator, but they stuck to the script.  
   
Now in the prison levels, she was dragged to an empty, bare room, with a single folded set of prison sweats on the table in the middle.  Thrust into the room, which had a large mirror on one side.  
   
“Strip!” snapped the guard. He was large, burly, muscular. Rolling up one sleeve, he snapped a rubber glove on to his hand.  
   
Cowering, Taylor stripped. The guards leered, pointing, making comments that she was supposed to hear.  Even if she hadn’t heard them, she would have known what they were; she had scripted most of them herself, after all.  
   
“Look at her, all skin and bone ...”  
   
“Hardly worth it ... they say this is the great Skitter?”  
   
“Well, she’s nothing now. She’s in here, with us.”  
   
“Yeah, bitch, you’re all ours, now.”  
   
“And no-one’s ever gonna hear you screaming.”  
   
The underwear came off last; she bent over the table, knowing what was coming next.  
   
“Body cavity check,” he grunted, shoving two fingers between her labia, into her oh-so-lubricated vagina. She gasped as he penetrated her roughly with his fingers, her eyes rolling back, almost climaxing on the spot.  
   
“Ow!” she cried for effect. “Please don’t!  That hurts!”  The guards’ sniggers and comments increased.  
   
He pulled his fingers from her thoroughly wet vaginal canal, and inserted them between her buttocks, into her anus.  She cried out again as he violated her, shoving his fingers deep inside her tightest orifice.  The laughter of the guards was louder, crueller.  
   
She had to bite her lip to keep from reaching orgasm.  
   
 _You could do me right here, boys.  I’m all lubed up for you._

But no; there was a reason for the script.  
   
And so she was allowed to put on the prison sweats, and her hands were cuffed behind her back, and she was marched through the corridors until she reached the far end cell.  The door was opened, and she was shoved inside, falling on to the bunk.  
   
The door slammed, and the lock clicked.  And then the lights went out.  
   
She had specified the lights.  They raised the sense of isolation, of abandonment, of fear.  
   
All of which translated to one thing for her, right now.  
   
***  
   
She fell into the rehearsed fantasy, telling herself that she was all alone, had no-one, had nothing, was a prisoner, was trapped.  That the PRT could do anything it liked to her, and she could do nothing to stop them.  
   
And then the lights came on, and the door burst open, and the guards stormed in.  They grabbed her roughly, bent her over the bunk.  Pulled her prison-issue sweats down around her knees.  
   
She felt the first penis thrust into her, driving deep inside her hungry sex, feeding her desire. But she cried out with apparent pain, simulated outrage.  He held her hips, pumping his thick cock into her, as she came and came and pretended that her cries were of agony and not of ecstasy.  
   
Finally, he climaxed inside her, pulled out, let another take his place.  
   
Taylor, whimpering with desire, felt him push between her buttocks, deep into her throbbing asshole. “Oh no,” she pleaded.  “Not that, please.  Don’t put it there.”  
   
But he ignored her words, just as he was supposed to, and proceeded to sodomise her quite thorougly. His erection slid in and out between her taut buttocks, spreading them far apart, driving deep, causing her to cry out over and over.  
   
To anyone watching, listening, it would be a most convincing rape, save that her cries were those of pleasure.  But they acted as though she were unwilling, struggling, even though she was thrusting herself back toward them, mutely inviting them to take her harder, more roughly.  
   
These guards had been carefully vetted, for size and for sexual health.  Their main orders were ‘follow the script’ and ‘tell no-one about this’.  
   
They took her, one after another.  Some pulled her hair; others pushed her top up and mauled her breasts.  One or two took her  in both her pussy and her ass, one then the other, making her cry out twice as loud.  
   
She cried, she sobbed, she pleaded, she moaned ... and she came, over and over and over again.  
   
And then, just as the second last man pulled out of her, the script took an unexpected direction.  
   
“You know,” said the guard in question, “why don’t we just deal with this?”  
   
“What do you mean?” asked the last man, already getting himself ready for insertion.  
   
“I mean, we’ve got the bug bitch here, now.  One bullet, bam!  Headshot.  Problem solved.  We get control of the city back.”  
   
And she heard the sound of a gun slide being racked back.  
   
This was definitely  _not_  in the script.  
   
“Fuck!” yelled the last guard.  “What the fuck are you doing?”  
   
There was the sound of a scuffle, and Taylor twisted around to see what was happening.  The two guards, incongruously both with their pants around their ankles, were struggling over the pistol that one had drawn.  
   
The gun went off, and one cried out in pain.  The other began to rise, pistol in hand, turning toward Taylor, when the door burst open again, and three other guards tackled him.  
   
Miss Militia stepped into the cell; she had obviously been waiting for her cue.  
   
“Take him away,” she ordered to the men holding the would-be assassin.  “Taylor – are you all right?”  
   
“Yeah, but there’s one to go,” said Taylor.  
   
“Sorry,” said Miss Militia. “He needs to go to sickbay.”  She sighed.  “Everyone else out.”  
   
The cell cleared remarkably quickly, and Miss Militia closed the door.  She began stripping her clothes off.  
   
***  
   
Taylor cried out again and again as the large phallus thrust into her tingling vagina, over and over again. Miss Miltitia pumped her hips, sliding the thick strap-on dildo deep inside her, holding tight to her hips and repeating the words the last man should have been using.  
   
“You’re nothing ... just gutter scum ... nothing but a fuck-toy ... I’m gonna fuck you till I come, then I’ll spit on you and walk out that door.”  
   
The words, combined with the ungentle thrusting, drove Taylor over the brink, and she came violently, again and again.  
   
***  
   
When her vision cleared, she was no longer wearing the handcuffs.  Miss Militia was sitting at the side of the bed, dressed once more, but not wearing the scarf.  
   
“Come on now,” she said softly.  “It’s over.  I’ll help you get cleaned up.”  
   
She helped Taylor to the shower, then stripped off once more and entered the cubicle with her.  She was straight, Taylor knew, but she had readily agreed to this part of the script, in the name of helping Taylor. They kissed a few times, but mainly, Miss Militia spent her time gently washing Taylor down.  
   
As they dried themselves off, Taylor grinned at Miss Militia.  “I didn’t know you could do  _that_  with it.”  
   
Miss Militia grinned. “It’s definitely a weapon, would you not agree?”  
   
Taylor laughed.  “Oh hell yeah.  We might keep that bit in; what do you say?’  
   
Miss Militia nodded. “If you want to.”  
   
“Ooh, I want, I want,” grinned Taylor.  
   
Miss Militia grinned in return, and helped her get dressed, in the hoodie and jeans in which she had arrived.  
   
“The guard who saved me?” Taylor asked.  
   
“Wound to the arm,” Miss Militia assured her.  “He’ll make a full recovery.”  
   
“Full battle pay,” Taylor suggested.  “With bonuses.  I’ll make up any difference.”  
   
Miss Militia tilted her head.  “As you say,” she assented.  
   
Taylor frowned.  “And as for the other guy ...”  
   
Miss Militia nodded. “My fault.  I didn’t vet his background closely enough.  Apparently he changed his name.”  
   
Taylor shook her head. “Not your fault.  How did you want to deal with it?”  
   
Miss Militia looked steadily at her.  “He can’t leave Brockton Bay.  He can’t work for the PRT here.  Unreliable, can’t follow orders.”  
   
Taylor nodded. “Agreed.  Do you want to handle the execution?”  
   
A nod.  “I think it would be best.  I’ll give him a chance, though.  Is that okay?”  
   
“Sure,” said Taylor. “Sometimes people learn from their mistakes.”   _Not often enough, unfortunately._  
   
***  
   
The man sat in a cell, hands secured to a ring-bolt in the floor.  He looked up as they entered.  “Oh, now what the fuck?” he snarled.  
   
“Frank Jones, aka Frank Tagg,” said Miss Militia formally.  “You stand accused of attempted murder of Taylor Hebert.  How do you plead?”  
   
“Murder?” snarled the young man.  “Of her?  That’s not murder, that’s a public service!”  
   
Miss Militia’s lips twitched.  “What gain would have been gotten from her death?”  
   
“Look around!” he shouted. “Without her, they would have collapsed!  We could have taken the city back from them!”  
   
She shook her head.  “No, we wouldn’t,” she said softly.  “If she had died, ten million bugs would have swarmed this building.  We all would have died screaming.”  
   
His eyes widened.  “She’s bluffing.”  
   
Taylor spoke up.  “I assure you, I’m not.”  
   
“Fuck you!” he snarled. “Fuck you all!  She killed my father, and you’re letting her get away with it!”  
   
Miss Militia shook her head.  “No,” she said softly.  “I killed your father, when he was about to have her raped.  I saved our lives then, too.”  She smoothly drew a gun from her holster.  “Frank Tagg, I find you guilty of attempted murder and obdurate stupidity. For this, in this city, the punishment is death.”  
   
There was a single shot, and Tagg slumped.  
   
Miss Militia turned to Taylor.  “Is that sufficient to your needs?” she asked.  
   
Taylor nodded.  “It’ll do,” she confirmed.  “How will you explain it away?”  
   
Miss Militia shrugged. “Training accident.  You know how it goes.”  
   
Taylor nodded and shook her hand.  “Thanks again.  And thank the guy who saved me.”  
   
“Any time,” said Miss Militia.  “Any time.”  
   
***  
   
Taylor walked out through the lobby, paused to pat Emily Piggot on the shoulder again, and then out through the revolving doors.  
   
The car was still waiting there.  But this time, there was a large cushion on the back seat.  
   
She smiled as she climbed in and settled on to it.  
   
She was going to be sore for a couple of days.  
   
But it was a  _good_  kind of sore.  
   
   
 _[Author’s Note: This concludes the main run of the Domination of Taylor stories.  If anyone has any ideas for new combinations/variations, I will consider them, but I don’t promise to write them.]_  


 


End file.
